To Be Indifferent
by Alyssa James
Summary: She supposed she was bored, going to help the street punk that was getting beaten so mercilessly. IchiRuki, AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Hiya! For those of you new to this story, I hope you enjoy it! For those who happen to be returning, I am currently in the process of rewriting this. Nothing major should change, but I can't say that for certain until I finish. But anyways… ONWARD! ONWARD TO VICTORY!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT OWN BLEACH, ICHIGO, RUKIA, BYAKUYA, RENJI, ETC., ETC…!**

XXX

**Prologue**

She supposed she felt bad for the kid at the street corner.

_His eyes, a once righteous mahogany color, were dulled as he stared at the faces beating into him. Their bodies morphed into one, and he found it hard to keep his eyes open, let alone fight back. The best he could do was close his eyes and pray that this ended quickly. He had no hope. Nobody would save him. _

She supposed that she was bored, helping him fight against the other thugs.

_His once bright orange hair was covered in bright, fresh blood; blood that invaded his mouth, his eyes, his everything. Damn it! How he wished he could fight back, push his oppressors away, and run. But that wasn't going to happen; he was helpless, a prisoner in his own body. More blood squirted out, and he idly wondered if he would die. Not like it would matter. Nobody would care if he died. _

She supposed that she couldn't stand the sight of the bloody mess and steady _drip-drop_ of his blood hitting the concrete.

_As if mocking his thoughts, a figure appeared. At first, he tensed, prepared for the onslaught of additional hands and feet that would, inevitably, leave him crippled. Time progressed slowly; he waited with an anticipation so nerve-wracking that he could _**feel**_ his heart beating, almost as if it was about to fall out of his chest. Moments turned into minutes, and he realized something; the figure wasn't going to hurt him. His hope increased, if only slightly, and he took a look at the newcomer. The figure, as he noticed, was a girl, small in stature with a harsh expression set to her gaze; her eyes were a dark, unnaturally deep blue, accented more by her pitch black hair that fell just above her shoulders. She was beautiful. Too beautiful, he thought, to be fighting a bunch of random thugs she didn't even know. Just who was this girl, really?_

She supposed she wanted to help the helpless in this battle.

_And fight she did. The bodies, the blob. He couldn't remember who they all were; maybe he never knew who they were at all. Fights like these never made sense—but yet, people continually tried to fight with him because of his reputation. He usually won, but sometimes, like today, he was off just a few inches or just a couple punches, and he'd ended up a bloody mess. Nobody ever came to help him. Not his gang, not his friends, not even his family; they all abandoned him, all called him worthless. He was starting to believe it._

She supposed she cared for him, if just a tiny bit.

_But this girl… in just a few moments, she had taken down the entire blob, returning them back to human figures, all falling like some demented game of _Ring around the Rosie_. The last person, a man with blue hair brighter than the sky, was taken down with a swift kick to his jaw. He hit the ground, the thud filling the air as the rancid odor of blood filled his nostrils. Ichigo cringed; not out of fear, but pity. Would he ever get up again?_

She supposed she was lonely, with her brother away and no true friends to call her own, nobody to take away her feeling of abandonment. She was nothing, but maybe here, she could be at least something.

_Apparently so, because a few moments later, he and the rest of his gang sent scathing looks towards him, the fallen, before running off with tails between their legs. He hadn't realized how grateful he was; he would get another day to live, another day to fight. The thought brought a small, barely noticeable smile to his lips. Then, with more grace than he thought possible, he passed out._

She supposed she could use some friends; and what better way to make them than saving a life?

_But before he passed out, he asked something. He couldn't, nor would he ever, remember the exact words, but it seemed significant enough for the girl's eyes to light up and smile. Picking up his battered, beaten body, she leaned most of his weight into her small frame, surprisingly strong for someone so tiny. He wasn't sure how long they travelled, with him leaning against her shoulder and her caring for him, but he realized somewhere along the way that they were at a house. It was a mansion, really; with its pure white walls and strangely calming atmosphere, it was foreign to him; him, who has never had friends nor family to call his own; him, who knew nothing of this girl's hardships; him, who was being dragged into the house, to a nondescript room, most likely the same as the others; him, who was dropped on a marvelous, down-filled bed, the soft material adorning his bruised body; _**him**_. He said something else to the girl and heard, through battle hazed ears, her laugh, the sound so carefree… He was pretty sure she was an angel…_

She supposed that she did because of her heritage or maybe some sort of obligation; because, well, she was…

_She leaned down, almost as if telling him a secret, her eyes smirking mischievously. When he thought she was going to answer, she turned on her heel just as quickly and left the room, leaving him alone and slightly confused. A few minutes and one curse later, she brought out an icepack, along with various medical supplies, and began to clean up the blood around his injuries. He couldn't stop the cringe as different salves stung against his skin. The ice burned against his aching muscles, but soon felt nothing but peaceful oblivion. Seeing his state, she leaned forward and said, in a slightly gruff voice unfit for her body…_

Rukia Kuchiki.

"_My name is Rukia Kuchiki."_

XXX

**So what did you think? This will be an IchiRuki story, set in an AU with very little canon elements (save for characters and their interactions). Sorry if it was a little short; once the story starts, I'll increase the number of words indefinitely, but for now, I felt as though the prologue could stop here. If you're interested in reading this story, leave a review or some other type of recognition. **

**That's all for now, folks. Have a great day!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Rewrote first chapter! WOOHOO!**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN BLEACH! SILLY YOU FOR THINKING I DID!**

XXX

**Chapter 1**

When he woke up, sunlight was streaming through the windows onto a ridiculously soft bed. Warily glancing around, he wondered where he was, not having any recollection of the previous night. Had he been captured? It wouldn't have been the first time; after all, even after he passed out, certain gangs would take him back to their hangouts and continue beating on him till he was nothing more than a bloody stain. It sucked, but Ichigo had accepted it as a part of his life long ago.

However, the room seemed too put together for it to be used by a gang, especially any that he fought. Besides the bed he was currently occupying and the dresser of the far side of the room, the walls were pure streaks of white. Too clean to even be mistaken for the dingy hangouts he'd been in before. And the smell… he sighed happily. The smell wasn't anything like them either. It was like Lemon Pledge, but crisper, almost like there were honest to God lemons in his room. He relaxed, though not entirely; after all, what sort of person took an injured human to their house? Most people he knew would take him to the hospital or, until just very recently, leave him on the streets to die. Nobody cared, he knew. Nobody. Not his family, not his friends, not his gang…

_Just the girl._

Wait, what? What girl? There'd been a girl…? No, no, that wasn't possible. Nobody, _nobody_ ever saved him, ever helped him. This girl—if there even was a girl—was no different. No, as soon as he was fit and well (or, at the very least, able to move without feeling tendrils of pain shoot through his ribs) he would be gone. Staying here—wherever 'here' was—would only be trouble.

Of course, fate never works out quite the way you want it.

An exuberant bundle suddenly ran in and landed on top of him, its small hands grasping as his uniform. His eyes snapped open from the impact, and he came face to face with a little girl. She was no older than ten; with red hair that looked suspiciously pink and large doe eyes, she looked down at him with a cheeky grin. For a passing moment, he thought she was his savior, but he quickly discarded that idea. She wasn't even older than ten!— and, of course, she didn't look like an angel. No, his savior, for he had no other name for her, had looked like an angel. She'd been beautiful, stunning, fearless… Ichigo felt a warm blush creep up his neck. What the hell?! He must've been hit harder than he'd thought.

Ichigo glared at the intruder. "Who the hell are you?!" It came out more like a statement than a question, but she didn't seem to mind. If anything, she took some perverse pleasure in watching him curse and sputter underneath her.

She giggled, like one would with a puppy. Or a new toy. "Hi, Berry-chan! My name's Yachiru and I—," Suddenly, she was cut off as a disheveled Rukia came into the room, her raven black hair askew and her blue eyes narrowed dangerously. Ichigo gulped, vaguely remembering the same expression when she'd beaten up those thugs that attacked him. If looks could kill, Yachiru would be stuffed and mounted on the wall.

"Yachiru," she growled, her voice low and husky, "what did I tell you about coming in here? You don't just barge into random people's room, especially a man's! Come on! Uncle Zaraki's leaving soon."

That did the trick. Yachiru, who had until this time been lying on Ichigo's chest, pumped her first in the air. "Yay, Kenny's leaving!" She ran off then, probably going to see this 'Kenny', leaving Ichigo alone with his savior.

Rukia.

Now he remembered. He was getting beat up pretty badly last night; if he recalled, it was some jackass named Grimmjow. He and his buddies decided it would be hilarious to attack Ichigo as soon as he got out of school. Of course, he tried to fight back; he actually fought pretty well, and seemed to even be winning. But that damned student council president had to butt in: Uryu Ishida. Though he and Ichigo weren't friends, Uryu was very adamant about helping the poor gang member getting beat up. Pity was all it was. Just stupid, pathetic pity. Ichigo couldn't stand it.

Despite his good intentions, Uryu was no match against Grimmjow and his buddies. If Uryu hadn't interfered, Ichigo most likely would have gotten away unscathed. But that never happened as Uryu landed on the ground after a particularly hard left jab. Noticing how everyone was advancing, Ichigo stepped in between the carnage and had said, "Hey—leave him alone. Your issue is with me, right?"

Grimmjow, the bastard that he is, smiled a shark's grin before taking one well aimed punch and hitting Ichigo's solar plexus. After that, all the events blurred together, all the bodies blurred together, before he remembered seeing a girl beating up the scum known as Grimmjow.

Rukia Kuchiki. She had helped him. But for what reason?

Giving a quick glare up to her, Ichigo realized she was staring at him like he was some sort of biology experiment. It was a little unsettling, which probably explained why he jumped when Rukia began to speak to him.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, her eyes laughing as she took in his slightly flushed face. "Do your injuries hurt? Do you need some aspirin?"

Ichigo stared up at her, an angry retort stopping dead in its tracks at her sincerity. "Not… not as bad as others I've had. I'm okay. I'll be leaving soon so you don't have to worry—" Rukia placed her hand on his arm , causing him to cry out in pain, obviously not expecting that. He spat out, "What was that for?! That hurt, dammit!"

"Then don't say you're fine if you're not, idiot!" she yelled back, matching his tone perfectly. "In case you forgot, you were getting the shit pummeled out of you! If I hadn't been there…" She seemed to think this over before continuing, "If I hadn't been there, you'd probably be dead!"

That stopped the retort on Ichigo's lips about people minding their own damn business. Turning away from her face, Ichigo replied, somewhat like a child, "I would've been fine. I've been in worse."

His tone was final, and Rukia noticed that he wasn't going to elaborate. She sighed. "Fine. I'll take your word for it—for now." She seemed to perk up then. "Would you like some breakfast? We have eggs, toast, pancakes, even waffles shaped like bunnies—!"

Ichigo's stomach turned at the thought of food. He cut her off, saying, "I'm not interested. Go eat your stupid bunny waffles by yourself."

"I see," she said as she did a mocking imitation of the Thinking Man, apparently unaffected by his harsh tone. "Well, when you feel up to it, come down and join me. There's plenty of food to go around!"

"I'll keep that in mind."

Rukia nodded and turned around to go to the kitchen when she remembered something. "Hey, what's your name? I don't think I caught it."

Ichigo wanted to tell her that he hadn't said it, but he decided against that. No need to bite the hand that feeds you. "Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo."

XXX

A few bunny waffles later, Rukia was reclining on her couch and watching some rerun of an anime she hadn't seen since she was a kid. Ichigo still hadn't come down; Rukia was worried, but she decided to let him be. After all, it had to be strange, being in a different house with people he didn't know. She decided that giving him some space would be the best course of action.

Rukia heard a car door slam. Glancing up from behind the couch, she noticed the one person she hadn't been expecting to see quite so soon.

"Nii-sama!" she yelled, running out to the car as she did. It was her brother all right; his eyes were still the same onyx color, and his hair was still fashioned with the symbol of the Kuchiki clan. He was getting his matching grey suitcase out of the limousine, his suit crisp and fresh. He inclined his head towards his sister. "Rukia. How have you been?"

Rukia smiled like a little kid at Christmas before she went to give her brother a hug. She stopped in her tracks and, thinking better of it, bent her head in greeting. "Fine, Nii-sama. I've been well. And you? How was Europe?"

Kuchiki Byakuya was an entrepreneur and a damned good one at that. He was rich, more wealthy than their parents had been, and one of Japan's top bachelors. Even so, he was almost never home and Rukia wished he would quit, would go get some meager paying job, actually be home for once. She could always ask… but no. It wasn't her place to say what made her brother happy. Besides, even if he was back, he was usually out, doing business with his partner, Renji. Speak of the devil…

"Rukia~," a gruff voice called out to her. "Oi, Rukia~." As soon as Rukia saw the deadly head of red hair, she stepped to the side and placed her arm out. The man walked—well, more like ran, straight into her arm.

"Renji." She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Nii-sama didn't say you were with him."

Renji stared up at her, his drunkenness evident in his flushed complexion and half-lidded eyes. Rukia hated it when he was drunk. And so early in the morning, too! He always made a grab at her, and to be honest, it kind of ticked her off. When he was sober, he at least could keep his hands to himself and even carry on a pleasant conversation with her. But drunk…

Glancing around for her brother, Rukia noticed that he'd left, most likely already in the house. Had he gone to unpack? Surely not. He almost never stayed in the house, at least not long enough to think it necessary to unpack. But still… was it possible? Allowing a small smile to grace her features, she imagined her brother staying, if only for a short while, them being a happy family for once…

"Rukia, help me up," Renji said, already sobering out as the day continued. No matter what Rukia did or say when she saw him, no matter how much alcohol he'd consumed, he always sobered quicker drunk than inebriated. He was weird like that. "I said, let me—"

"Up," Rukia finished, holding out her hand. "I heard you the first time. Is Nii-sama staying here?"

Renji shook his head. "No." At her dejected look, he backpedaled and said quickly, "Ah, well, I thought we were staying at a hotel—but, I mean, I guess it's possible we could be staying here…"

Rukia shook her head at her own foolishness. "Oh, no, you're probably staying at a hotel; Nii-sama doesn't go back on his word. He could've forgotten something though…"

Renji stared up at her, seeing the poorly concealed hurt in her eyes. He knew all about Byakuya's issue with staying home; ever since his late wife, Hisana, died he had been a shadow of a man. Rukia probably never noticed this because she only saw him maybe a few times a year, if she was lucky. It was sad, but Renji had long ago had decided to stay out of Byakuya's familial business.

Suddenly, the pounding of feet could be heard. Glancing towards the steps, Rukia and Renji both noticed a young boy, no older than seventeen, running down the steps as Byakuya trailed after him, for once wearing an expression besides indifference. He was running after him, gaining quicker and quicker…

With a shotgun.

Oh Lord.

"Nii-sama!" Rukia yelled as she attempted to get in between the boy and her brother. "Nii-sama, calm down! He's a friend!" Ichigo stared at her in shock before cowering a little more behind the small woman. That was her brother? He was insane!

"Rukia," Byakuya said, his eyes narrowed as he took in how close the boy was to his little sister. "Move."

Rukia scrunched her nose up and shook her head. Seeing the steely resolve in her eyes, Byakuya sighed and put the shotgun down. Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief before he noticed a freezing glare being sent his way. Gulping, he sent a half-assed gaze back, before Rukia said, "Look Nii-sama—why don't we have breakfast? I can explain, okay? Just trust me."

"You better," was all Byakuya said, before he began to stalk out of the house.

Rukia sighed and rolled her eyes. "Where are you going? I thought we were having breakfast!"

"We are. We're going out." With those final words, Byakuya, along with the shocked Renji, an eternally scarred Ichigo, and a fuming Rukia made his way out to the family's limo. Rukia stared after him before grabbing Ichigo's hand and pulling him out to the car. Her hand was so warm and for a second, Ichigo was fully blushing. But he quickly shoved those thoughts aside and idly wondered what he was getting into.

If only the poor boy knew.

XXX

**Please review!**


	3. Chapter 3

…**And this is why I want to marry Kenshi Yonezu :D**

**DISCLAIMER: WHO OWNS BLEACH? SURE AS HELL ISN'T ME…**

XXX

**Chapter 2**

Somehow, the quarto had managed to get to a small restaurant on the side of town called 'Excution.' It was a waffle house with nearly three stories, all decorated like waffles stacked on top of one another. Ichigo stared, a little dubious; this was her brother's restaurant? Well, if Rukia's squealing had anything to do about it…

"Ichigo!" She latched onto his arm while Byakuya sent a disapproving glance towards the two. "Isn't it cute? They sell bunny waffles here!"

Ichigo did not think it was cute, but he was too tired to start a fight. Instead he simply said, "Didn't you already eat breakfast, you insatiable woman?!" This earned him a glare from Byakuya and a punch, a damned hard one too, from Rukia. Cosigning to his fate, the young boy sighed and entered into the restaurant, following Byakuya to a booth in the corner.

"Good morning, Kuchiki-san!" a young woman yelled out, her smile larger than the sun. "Where would you like to sit today?"

Byakuya barely glanced at her. "The Parlor's fine." Unaffected, or perhaps simply used to it, the girl led them to a rather nice section covered with dark velvet carpet and walls made of pure oak. It was pretty, sure, but Ichigo idly wondered why Byakuya—Rukia's older brother—had such a… frilly store. He snorted. Maybe he was…

"Rukia," Byakuya commanded, his soft baritone making his sister freeze in her euphoria, "explain."

Rukia gave him a look, something akin to fear, before she laughed nervously. "I don't really know where to start…" Then her eyes lit up and she got an idea.

"Waitress!" she yelled, waving a young woman over. The waitress, a busty blond by the name of Rangiku, meandered over, confusion set on her face.

"What is it, hun?" she asked, sizing up the entire table with one blink of her large doe eyes.

"Could you bring me some napkins? And some crayons?" Her excitement was palpable. Then, turning to her brother, she said, "I think I know how to explain this."

Rangiku nodded and a few moments later, she was back with the aforementioned items. "Here you go," she said, her voice chipper and sweet. "Have fun."

"I will!" Rukia called after her retreating figure. Then, turning her attention to her supplies, she began to draw.

Ichigo craned his neck to see what she was drawing, but she covered the paper with her elbows and bent over it, almost like a mother would to their child. And besides, the gaze he was receiving from Byakuya was enough to freeze water. After a couple minutes, Rukia was finished.

"Done!" she cried, holding up the napkin to her brother. Ichigo strained to make sense of what he was seeing while Rukia pointed to an orange blob.

"This," she said, pointing to the orange blob, "is Ichigo. These," she pointed to a group of blue blobs surrounding the orange one, "were the people beating him up."

Ichigo felt his eye twitch as he took in the sight of the bunnies. Chappy the bunny? Really? Was she a little kid?

"When I saw them beating him up, I stepped in," Rukia was a black bunny, drawn painstakingly better than the others. "Then, I took him to our house."

True to form, the house was a rabbit hole in the middle of a street. "I bandaged him up, and he spent the night." She showed a picture of the orange bunny, sleeping. "That's when you came home." Again, the Kuchiki bunny was drawn even better than the others.

"I see," Byakuya said, sipping his coffee, seemingly okay with his sister's crazy explanation. "I don't really approve of you bringing home a total stranger, but I guess I can let it slide." Sending a glare at Ichigo, he added, "However, you have overstayed your welcome. I suggest you go home."

Ichigo nodded. "I'd be more than happy to." Rukia glared up, but it was decidedly lacking venom as she knew he was only being honest. Something she could respect in a man was honesty.

That didn't make her any less angry though.

Narrowing her eyes, she said to Ichigo, "What's wrong? You don't look too well."Ichigo opened his mouth to retort but before he got the chance, Rukia kicked him under the table. He growled and muttered a quick curse as Rukia said, "See! He's sick Nii-sama! Look at how red his face his! And he's getting hot flashes! Why, we wouldn't be good hosts if we let him go home in this condition!"

Byakuya quirked his brow, but didn't say anything. Anyone—okay, maybe not Renji, but everyone else—saw what Rukia was trying to do. She was trying to keep Ichigo there, with her. Not like Byakuya could blame her. He was barely ever home, and he knew, what with his job and his life, that Rukia barely even knew him, much less had the skills to make new friends. In fact, in all the years they had been together, he couldn't remember one time where Rukia had brought a friend back to the house. Maybe he could…

But no. Rules were rules. And letting some strange teenage boy spend the night—alone, he might add—in the house with his younger sister? That was breaking the biggest rule of all.

"No. I'm sorry, Rukia, but letting some stranger in the house? That's how most people are murdered." Rukia opened her mouth to retort but he cut her off. "And anyways, I'm sure his family is worried about him. He should go home before they call the police."

Rukia sniffed. "But Nii-sama…"

Byakuya quirked an eyebrow, but didn't say a word, and after a moment, Rukia didn't either.

Renji was the one who broke the silence, "I think you should let him stay Bya-ku—Byakuya. How much trouble could he get into?" At Byakuya's glance, he laughed nervously. "Okay, okay, I see your point… but we're staying around for a while anyways, right? We can keep an eye on him and make sure he heals right. 'Cuz let's face it—those bruises are looking fairly nasty. Who's to say if we sent him home _**we **_wouldn't get the police called on _**us **_for reckless endangerment?"

"And what about his family?"

Renji chuckled a bit but before he could answer, Ichigo said, almost monotonously, "Ah, um… my family… or rather, my parents…" He bit his lower lip, almost as if he was ashamed. "They're dead." His voice was small. "They died a few months ago."

Byakuya's ears perked up at the sudden turn of events. "Dead, you say? Who were you staying with then?"

"I was kind of… living by myself. Or, I was, until a few days ago, when Child Services came to put me in Foster Care. I was… well, I'll be frank—I was running away. One of my friends was in Foster Care and she hated it." His eyes were shining with anger. "Said it's like you're a dog—no freedom, no family, no say in your own future. I couldn't live like that." He gave Byakuya an even glance. "I don't think anyone can."

For a moment, all was quiet at the table. Renji and Byakuya were wearing pained expressions while Rukia looked horror-stricken. Too many memories. Hisana… Hisana is—or rather, was—Byakuya's wife and Rukia's full-blooded sister, probably the only family she'd known her entire life. Yep, that's right. Rukia was an orphan, just like Ichigo. But unlike Ichigo, she still had family, even it was a tad lonely or they were a tad strange.

And unlike Ichigo, she remembered when she was in Foster Care. She knew that the families weren't all bad—some were just trying their best to make it through life. But the one family she'd been with… let's just say it hadn't been a pleasant experience. If Hisana hadn't met Byakuya, Rukia had no doubt that she would be dead by now. She shivered; now there was no way they couldn't help Ichigo. They had to. Otherwise they would be going against every moral, everything that she stood for as a Kuchiki… and as Rukia.

Byakuya sighed and steeped his fingertips. He gave a glance to Rukia as if asking for her permission—but when he noticed she wasn't even paying attention, he turned back to Ichigo. "Don't you have any other family?"

Ichigo shook his head. "If I do, then I never met them. Mom and Dad never talked about any siblings, and my grandparents died when I was little."

"How did you support yourself?"

Ichigo furrowed his brow, perplexed by the question, before he said, "I did this and that."

"Care to elaborate?"

Ichigo flushed in embarrassment. "Well, I would do menial tasks. You know, rake leaves, shovel snow, even," he smirked, "teach kids how to wield a katana. It didn't pay the best, but my landlady, Yoruichi, had some sympathy and let me stay in my room for free. I still had to pay for food, but I was better off than most."

"This Yoruichi woman," Byakuya sounded slightly unsure, "would she be able to take you in?"

"Nope. Her and her husband Kisuke moved out a while ago. I've been staying with a friend since then, but I couldn't impose on her for this long because her family isn't well off. I was actually thinking of quitting school and getting a full time job—"

"You can't!" It was Rukia. "Don't be an idiot! Like hell any place is going to hire someone who didn't even get their high school diploma! You wouldn't survive out there!"

Ichigo scowled. "I've survived perfectly fine up until now, thank you very much. Besides, who else is going to take me in? My dead mother? My unknown uncle? My missing aunt? **Who would take me in?"** He shook his head and turned back to Byakuya. "At least with a job I can support myself without relying on others. I don't need to worry about looking for someone to help me—"

"We can take you in." Her voice was soft, quiet, but full of venom. She was grasping her dress in her palms, angry that he had the nerve, the audacity, to say those things. She knew from experience that he wouldn't survive, not like that. It hadn't worked for Hisana; it wouldn't work for Ichigo either. And… she couldn't stand back and watch it happen again. She would die before that happened.

"Huh?!"

Byakuya had heard his sister as well, but after a moment, he found himself agreeing with her. "She's right. You wouldn't survive out there." Hisana flashed across his mind and he, for a second, grimaced. "You can stay with us, though I do have some stipula—"

"I don't need your pity!" Ichigo growled out. "I'm perfectly fine on my own! And besides, I can't just stay at someone's house without doing anything in return! It wouldn't be right!"

Byakuya gave him a chilly glare, his momentary heartache replaced with righteous indignation. "_**As**_ I was saying, you can stay with us, though there are four stipulations you'd have to adhere to." Byakuya put his forefinger up. "One—you'll be going to the hospital to get a checkup. _No exceptions._ Understood?" Ichigo swallowed his retort and nodded hesitantly, satisfying Byakuya. "Good. Number two, to pay for your rent, you'll be doing household chores. We lost our maid last month, and I haven't had the chance to hire a new one, so you'll have to do. You'll also be going to school with Rukia, regardless if you want to or not, and will be expected to keep high grades throughout the year. Three, this is simply temporary—do NOT think that we are giving you a free pass just because of your… dilemma. We'll give you till this summer to get your life together but by then, you have to move out. Do you understand?"

Ichigo nodded, suddenly feeling his mouth become dry. "But Byakuya-kun…"

"Do not call me Byakuya-kun. Kuchiki-sama works fine."

Ichigo glared and resisted the childish urge to stick his tongue out at the millionaire. How was he going to survive until summer with this prick?

"…Anyways, what's the fourth stipulation? You didn't say it."

At that, Byakuya didn't smile—no, he honest to God _smirked_. Ichigo felt a shiver run down his spine as the man said, "The fourth stipulation? You even think about Rukia in any way, shape, or form that isn't strictly classmate to classmate and I'll gauge your eyes out. Got it?" And with that, Byakuya's smirk broke into a full out smile, creeping Ichigo out to no end.

It was going to be a long summer. For Ichigo, for Byakuya, and for Rukia. Everything was about to change.

XXX

**Rewrite! Yay! And I found plot! WooHoo!**

**Also, I know some of you were asking why there were reviews for chapter seven, even though there is only two (now three chapters) out. This is a rewrite; back when I was writing this originally, I more or less "wrote myself in a corner" and could find absolutely no satisfying ways to progress the plot. So, I decided to rewrite. You won't see any major changes till probably chapter four, but the reasons for some of the characters' motivation are very different from before. I'm trying hand at romance again too, because last time it did not end so well :) But yeah, all the prior chapters should be all updated in this coming week, so new chapters should be out in the next two week time! **

**Until then, have a great day! See you next chapter! **


	4. Chapter 4

**Wow. Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and alerts everyone. I wasn't expecting such a big interest in this story, especially with it being a rewrite and all :) I've gotten a few anonymous reviews, so I suppose I'll answer them here :D**

_**To Snowyncess: Thanks for the review! Haha, I'm glad you like the story, and I hope I don't disappoint with what I have planned for future chapters ;) Hints about Byakuya? Whatever could you mean? ;) And you weren't pushy, so don't worry. Just forward and honest, which I like :D**_

_**OH, OH, AND YOU ASKED ME ABOUT KENSHI YONEZU. ASDFJKLLKGHGHDH I CAN'T. WORDS CAN'T EXPLAIN HOW HAPPY I AM! MY FAVORITE VOCALOID WORK WOULD MOST LIKELY BE PANDA HERO, AND MY FAVORITE NON-VOCALOID WORK WOULD BE SANTA MARIA. HE'S JUST… SO AMAZING. LET ME FANGIRL A MINUTE ABOUT THE FACT THAT HE WRITES HIS OWN LYRICS, DRAWS HIS OWN MVS, COMPOSES HIS OWN MELODIES, AND IS POSSIBLY THE DEEPEST PERSON ON THE PLANET. **_

_**Okay, I'm done :D Though if you want a good read, I would take a look at his short story called, "Being Born." It's like a picture book on the interwebs, and if you search "Being Born Vgperson" you should find it :) READ IT. READ IT AAAAALLLLLL~**_

_**To Bya-kun's Wife: Haha, thanks for the review! Though with that name, you might hate me for what comes next… ;) Thanks for the review and I hope you enjoy the next chapter! :)**_

_**To Yuiyuki: Thank you for your kind words! I don't… I don't deserve such praise *rubs head in embarrassment* And the way you're talking, I assume you've read this before? Because if you have… IF YOU HAVE…**_

_**You'll love the ending. Trust me. Actually, you'll probably love the new chapters even more so. So stick around and let's go on a wild ride! *she says, hoping that doesn't sound too creepy***_

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN BLEACH! HOWEVER, THIS PLOT IS MINE! ENJOY!**

XXX

**Chapter 3**

"Alright, Kurosaki-san; you should be able to leave the hospital after… this." As if accentuating her point, Dr. Unohana pricked the side of his arm with a needle. Blood slid into the syringe like some deadly waterfall, and Ichigo cursed silently. No matter who he fought, needles always had a way of getting under his skin. Literally _and _figuratively.

"Don't be such a baby," Rukia chided softly. She was standing at the doorway; her hair was back in a semi-messy bun, showing off her wolf-like blue eyes like trophies. Her arms were crossed over her bosom, which was covered with an adequate but appealing white dress. She looked like heaven. Or, at the very least, an angel from Hell. "If a few shots are enough for you to get a free house and education, I wouldn't complain. Take it like a man."

"Fuck off."

Rukia's eyes widened like an angered cobra ready to strike, but before she could possibly beat him within an inch of his life, Unohana probed Ichigo in his artery, causing him to yelp. "That is no way to speak to a lady, Kurosaki-san." She dug the needle in a bit deeper to emphasize her point. "Now apologize."

Deciding that he'd rather very well leave with his arm attached thank you, he growled out a quick apology to Rukia. She didn't look like she believed it but, after a moment of glaring, she simply sighed and rubbed her forehead. "Unohana-sensei, I'll be outside if you need me. Just make sure that idiot gets better." She smiled evilly at Ichigo before giving Unohana a quick salute and almost skipping out, like a little kid at a playground. Ichigo stared after her, wondering how she hadn't been abducted yet, before he realized that Unohana was speaking to him.

"…What?"

Unohana sighed. "Kurosaki-san, it's very important that I get your health history. These… injuries, so to speak, could agitate a more serious illness, so I want to play it safe and make sure nothing will arise. I also need to see if you're allergic to any medications. Now if you'll just fill out these forms…"

"I can't."

If Unohana was one for rolling her eyes, she would have. Instead, she gave one of her brightest smiles to the patient. "What? I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that. Care to repeat it?"

Ichigo gulped; her tone sounded like she did not want him to repeat it, and he felt a slight tremor erupt up his side. After a moment he gathered his courage and said, "I can't. I… don't really know my health history."

"Hmm—I see. And why," her smile began to look even more forced, if it was possible, "do I find that hard to believe?"

Ichigo gave his trademark scowl. "I don't know."

"It was a rhetorical question, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo glared with a look that said, 'Then why did you ask it?' Scowling, he said, "Look—can I leave, Unohana-sensei? I don't want to keep Rukia waiting, so can we please just continue this another time?" His words were light, but Unohana noticed the slight waver of his scowl, the way his body would shake like they were experiencing an earthquake, the way he refused to look her in the eye. He was fearful, she knew. But fearful of what?

Unohana glowered before she answered happily, "Of course, of course. But Kurosaki-san…" for once the smile slipped completely from her face, although her tone was still light, "I'll have you know that I am good friends with the Kuchikis, and if I find out that you're… using them, well, some shots aren't all you'll have to worry about." She smiled at Ichigo's horror stricken face. "Okay? Now run along. You wouldn't want to keep them waiting, would you?"

Ichigo nodded. "N-no," he said quickly as he grabbed his shirt and his pants. "Thank you, Unohana-sensei." He gave her a big, fake smile. "I'll keep that in mind."

Unohana watched the young man leave and sighed. Whatever secret he was hiding, she hoped he could work it out; because she wasn't afraid to go through with her promise. If this boy hurt even one person in the Kuchiki family—intentionally or unintentionally—she would personally hunt him down, doctor or not. She would personally make his life a living hell. That she promised.

"Unohana-sensei! Hatori-san is in for his monthly checkup!"

"I'm coming!" And as she walked to see her next patient of the day, sunny smile on her face, only one thought crossed her mind.

_Just what have you gotten yourself into, Byakuya? _

XXX

After a grueling twenty minute car ride, Ichigo and the gang arrived at the large mansion. Or, it was—at least to Ichigo. The mansion was tremendous, an awesome sight to behold—it sat on a pretty property of twenty acres, with large Victorian windows adorning the gothic structure that was surprisingly in… white. The front door, almost out of place, had a royal blue color, like an entrance to Wonderland. And the gardens! These gardens, full of various exotic flowers, were by far the prettiest by the rose bushes. There were yellow, red, orange, even black ones that he had never seen before; they were all surrounded by stone benches seemingly out of England themselves.

All in all, it was a fairytale. A house within a dream. Or maybe even a dream within a house.

"It's pretty, isn't it?"

Snapping his mouth shut, he jumped nearly ten feet in the air as Rukia came up beside, giving the house an appraising look. He scowled. She'd been living in luxury her entire life, right? Shouldn't she be used to this by now? What was she trying to do, mock him? Sometimes he really didn't get rich people.

But he didn't say any of this to her. No, all he said was, "Yeah—it's pretty. But why do you need such a big house if it's only you and your brother?"

Rukia didn't answer right away. For a moment, he thought that she hadn't heard him, but then he heard a deep intake of breath, almost like she was crying. Okay, so it wasn't gut-retching sobs—just quiet, suppressed sniffles—but Ichigo felt guilt stab at him like an icicle. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she shook her head as if wiping away bad memories. "That's… not my story to tell. Come on—dinner'll be starting soon and we still have a lot to do." And, before he could even respond, she turned her on her heel and stalked away, leaving a slightly bewildered Ichigo behind.

He stared after her for a second before he followed close behind. Inside the house was even more impressive—cedar furnishings adorned the place like some people needed air, their stark colors contrasting extraordinarily against the white leather furniture; the large Victorian windows let in so much blinding light, the beautiful stained glass ornaments hanging overhead from nearly all parts of the world. It was extravagant, beautiful… and so very different from what Ichigo had been living in the past few months. Even the family aspect, though not as warm as his other friends, was so welcoming and wonderful, so much like an actual family that Ichigo didn't know how to react. He wasn't used to this feeling of… security.

It was unnerving, to say the least.

"Ichigo," Rukia's rough voice snapped him out of his musings. He hadn't realized she'd come up beside him. "Are you sure you… want to stay here?" She pushed her hands together in an obvious sign of discomfort. "I don't want you to think… that you have to…"

"Why the hell are you asking that?"

Rukia flinched, prepared for his anger, but when he didn't elaborate, she turned to face him. He didn't look angry or even exasperated—he almost looked innocently defeated, like a child when they learned Santa wasn't real. Perhaps he was just being honest. "If you don't want me here, Rukia, I'll leave. Don't think you owe me anything." He chuckled dryly. "I mean, come on. I know when I'm not wanted. Do you really care what I think?" He snorted as if that was the funniest thing in the world.

"Yes."

Her voice was so small, barely above a whisper, but Ichigo heard it as though she was shouting. Though he didn't reply, a small smile graced his lips and he, without even thinking about it, ran his hand through Rukia's hair, almost like he had when his two sisters were little. Taken aback, Rukia felt a warm blush creep up her neck, but she resisted the urge to swat his hand away.

The rest of the silence spanned comfortably between the two.

XXX

"Wha—?! I HAVE TO WHAT?!"

Byakuya did not look pleased. "Kurosaki-san, screeching as you are will only agitate the neighbors." At Ichigo's haughty glare, Byakuya urged the apron closer. "You have to do this. It's part of a maid's duty to cook dinner for the family."

"I AIN'T NO MAID! COOK YOUR OWN DAMN DINNER YOURSELF, YA LAZY BASTARD!"

Byakuya inched a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "You're lucky I'm even letting you eat dinner with us at all, you mangy dog." Ichigo growled at the dog comment, but Byakuya pushed on. "I'm giving you food, a roof over your head, and more money than you'll know what to do with. _**So put the apron on**_."

Ichigo growled, but took the apron anyways. "I hope you know that I'm not doing this for you but for me—"

"Just go cook dinner, Kurosaki-san."

"And what, exactly, am I making, your royal highass?" Byakuya's brow twitched. Ah. So he'd hit a nerve. Byakuya glared at the young man before he simply chuckled. Chuckled! Ichigo felt a slight shiver run through his body. Was this guy the devil or what?!

"Kurosaki… have you ever heard the story of Hansel and Gretel?"

"You mean the two kids that get lost in the woods? Yeah. Why?"

Byakuya gave him a sickly sweet smile, not unlike Unohana's from earlier in the day. "Then you're aware that they did work for the witch so they wouldn't get eaten, correct?" Ichigo's felt his face pale, while Byakuya continued, almost oblivious to his obvious discomfort, his smile suddenly falling off his face as though it'd been a mask. "I'll put it like this… if you don't cook dinner, you'll _be_ the dinner. Okay?" Then, as though he hadn't just made a fairly incredulous threat on Ichigo's life, Byakuya walked back into the dining room, his gait relaxed and polished, evident after years and years of etiquette training.

Ichigo stared after him for a long moment before he said, albeit shakily, "I think I'll go make some ramen."

Byakuya paused mid-step, his back still facing Ichigo. "Don't even think about it. You won't like the repercussions." And then, he continued walking as if he hadn't just indirectly—again—made a threat on Ichigo's life.

As soon as Byakuya was out of earshot, Ichigo muttered, "Now I've _definitely_ gotta make it. Regardless of the consequences, being able to piss Byakuya off will probably be worth it in the long run."

XXX

Thirty minutes later, after Ichigo had placed the offending apron on and found all the necessary ingredients, a steaming bowl of ramen greeted each of the three occupants in the other room. Rukia, who hadn't had ramen in years, looked absolutely delighted, almost breaking her chopsticks in half in her excitement. Renji arched a brow at the strange choice in cuisine, but he decided not to comment on it—mostly because he didn't care what he ate, but also because he had a bad feeling his balls would be ripped out if he did. Ichigo really didn't care about them. No, the one he really cared about was…

"Kurosaki-san," Byakuya growled, his eyes glaring down at the offending bowl of ramen like it was Satan himself. "_**What**_ did I tell you about making ramen?" His glare intensified seven-fold as it reached Ichigo's innocuous face. "Your insolence is wearing thin, Kurosaki-san."

"Hmm?" Ichigo, who had until this time been eating ramen—rather, stuffing ramen in his mouth so he wouldn't laugh in the poor noble's face—sucked in an especially long noodle and cocked his head, like a small child asking their parents about the meaning of life. "Oh! You said _no_ ramen? I thought you said you wanted ramen!" He laughed, though it was a little hostile and somewhat bitter—almost vengeful. "I guess I heard you wrong. Not like there's anything we can do about it now." He took another bite of his noodles, carefully avoiding the gaze of the probing man.

Renji shifted his gaze from Ichigo to Byakuya to Ichigo again, feeling the hostile energy between the two. Deciding to intervene before Byakuya decided that he really didn't care if he went to prison for man-slaughter, he said, "Uh, Byakuya…" Rukia and Ichigo did not seem to notice the rude way Renji had addressed him. Byakuya did though and he sent another glare towards his coworker—though it was decidedly lacking less venom than the first. "I… I don't think it's so bad. I mean, I kind of like ramen, so…"

"Yeah, Nii-sama," Rukia said, after taking a large gulp of the chicken broth in the bottom of her bowl, her palate satisfied without a doubt. Ichigo was flabbergasted to realize that she'd already finished her bowl whereas Byakuya had yet to start his. "I thought it was really good." She turned towards Ichigo. "You're a really good cook."

Ichigo felt a slight blush form on his cheeks, though when he answered, his voice was even and controlled. "Um… thank you, I guess. It's nothing special."

Rukia's eyes narrowed playfully, almost like an imp when leading unsuspecting travelers to their doom. "I mean it. That was really good." She then turned her attention back to Byakuya. "So what if it's a little different? I think change is good."

Renji nodded nervously. "U-uh, yeah, I agree. It was good. Change is… fine."

Only, poor Renji, God bless his soul, didn't realize that Rukia had a hidden meaning to her words. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately enough, Byakuya did. He gave his sister a level stare, wasting no time in cutting down her own presumptuousness. "When did I ever say change is bad? Only _**certain**_ change is bad." He gave Ichigo a sly look, but God bless Ichigo's soul as well, he was unaware of the implications of the dining table conversation. He was still somewhat blushing from Rukia's compliment. "And let's face it—_**ramen**_ is one of those changes."

Rukia huffed in annoyance, but gave Byakuya an award winning smile. A smile if she was going to skin puppies alive, of course. "Really? I think ramen is a nice addition to the household. Maybe we should have ramen every night, for a _**long time**_." She smirked slightly at her brother's growing dark aura, knowing she was entering dangerous territory. It was time to go in for the kill. "I mean, when you first started working, you refused to get a partner because you thought that they would slow you down." Rukia almost laughed at the look of indignation Renji sent Byakuya. "But then you met Renji and… well, look at you now. You wouldn't be nearly as successful if you hadn't found him." She was pleading by this point, her self-righteousness forgotten as she continued speaking. "So, this change really wouldn't be so bad…"

Byakuya exhaled and placed two lithe fingers against his temples. He was getting a headache. "Yes, but Rukia—"

"Just… just enjoy the ramen, okay? Respect it and it might… respect you." Renji and Ichigo gave her an uncomprehending look, almost like she'd lost her mind. They meant, really? Respecting ramen? The younger Kuchiki kept getting stranger and stranger.

Byakuya understood her meaning though and he nodded, though he looked anything but happy about doing it. Still, he'd made a promise; one to Hisana to watch over Rukia and make her happy and another promise to let Ichigo—or, he smirked inwardly, the ramen—stay until summer. It would be against all his codes of honor to go against a promise he had made. "Very well. I will keep my mind open to this… _change_."

Rukia, had she been any younger, would've jumped up and squealed in happiness before running over to hug her brother. However, after years of being Kuchiki Byakuya's younger sister, she knew better than that. She bowed slightly at the table. "T-thank you, Nii-sama. That's all I'm asking."

And then, as if they hadn't just had a extraordinarily deep conversation about the fate of ramen, both sister and brother alike took a bite of ramen—or, in Rukia's case, a big gulp—leaving two very confused men at the table.

XXX

After the strange conversation, dinner had resumed in silence, the only sounds the scrape of chopsticks or the slurping of broth from the bowls. Soon, everyone was done, patting their stomachs affectionately, slight grins evident from the meal well done. Rukia and Renji had offered to clear the table (much to Ichigo's chagrin, as they had left him with the one and only ice king) while Byakuya had stared at him much like one would stare at a dead insect on a car window. Ichigo tried to avoid his gaze, but it seemed almost impossible, and soon he found himself glaring heatedly at the older Kuchiki.

Byakuya had quirked his brow at the boy's audacity to glare at him. Of all the people his sister had to pick…

Then, before a full out brawl could escalate between the two, Rukia and Renji reentered, took one look at the suffocating atmosphere, and sighed simultaneously. Then, with a not so discrete shove against Ichigo, Rukia laughed nervously and pulled the scowling teen away.

"U-um… Nii-sama, if you don't mind, I think I'll go show Ichigo his room now."

Byakuya, more than happy to be out of the delinquent's hair, nodded almost imperceptibly at Rukia before turning his attention back to Renji, who gave Rukia a slightly uneasy smile before he sat right beside his partner and started discussing the prospect of hiring new employees. Relieved, Rukia grabbed Ichigo's wrist—who surprisingly didn't protest at all, much to her delight—and led him farther and farther into the manor. They passed portraits—beautiful, singular portraits of people Rukia hadn't nor ever would meet, but were part of her family just like Byakuya or even—she shuddered slightly—Renji. She gave a curious glance back to Ichigo, a sudden thought colliding with her mind like a freight train. What was his family like? She knew he'd said they'd died, but he must've known them before their deaths, when they were two loving parents. What were their names? What were they like? Where had he lived before their deaths? How had they died? So many questions plagued her mind—so many impossibly questions, she mused bitterly, as it seemed almost presumptuous to be asking about such a private matter. Especially when she still had secrets of her own…

"Rukia."

Rukia, who had until this time been dragging Ichigo like some sort of prize poodle, stopped almost as if she'd stepped in hot lava. She been so lost in her thoughts that she'd barely realized the warm, tanned skin underneath her pale fingertips had been slipping closer and closer together…

Giving an uncharacteristic yelp, she wrenched her hand away and stared at Ichigo as though he'd grown another head, a light blush adorning her cheeks—something that, if anyone ever asked, she would deny. Seeing confusion settle in those dark auburn eyes, she let out an unsteady, "Y-yes?"

"We just went around in a circle."

"Huh?" And true to form, Rukia realized that both she and Ichigo had somehow returned to the very room they had dined in not only a moment earlier. Positive her face was the shade of a ripe tomato, she said, "Well, would you look at that! I didn't even realize…"

Suddenly, she heard a laugh. Glancing up, she saw the scowling teen chuckling slightly—a sight that sent butterflies whirling in her stomach, much to her chagrin. Finding interest in the floor boards, she quickly grabbed his shoulder—which was just as warm as his hand—and led him away, hoping that he didn't notice her burning face or her sweaty palms. Geez! What the hell was wrong with her?! She was not some love-sick schoolgirl, damn it!

Finally, after Rukia's inner debate, they had finally made it to his room… if you could call it that. Though Rukia had a sinking suspicion her brother had done this on purpose, Ichigo didn't seem that disappointed. Maybe he thought he did it, too.

That is, until they opened the door.

The room was adequate enough, with a dresser and a twin bed—not a futon, as Byakuya thought the Kuchikis were too 'above that'—and a separate doorway that led to a private restroom. No, there wasn't anything technically _**wrong**_ with it… except for one thing.

Ichigo took a look around, a scowl evident on his face, before he gave Rukia a look that clearly stated, 'What the fuck?' Rubbing the back of her head, Rukia laughed innocuously, looking everywhere but Ichigo's eyes. "W-what?"

"Take a fucking wild guess."

"W-what do you mean? I don't see anything wrong—"

Ichigo felt a nerve snap. "You know damn well what I'm talking about! Tell me Rukia; when were you going to tell me that I was staying in a room with… with…"

"Bunnies?"

"Yes!" Ichigo glared at the smaller woman, his ire showing clear as day on his tanned face. "I'm a man, dammit! How the hell can I stay in something so… _embarrassing_?"

Rukia snorted, slowly feeling her confidence building back up the more Ichigo yelled at her. "Well, _excuse_ me, Mr. Man, but weren't you the one cringing from an itty, bitty needle at the hospital today?" She laughed condescendingly. "What a big, strong man _you_ are."

"Why you little—!"

"Little what?" Her eyes narrowed dangerously, her hands resting precociously on her hips. She glared at the delinquent who, if we were being totally honest, looked slightly fearful at her expression. Rukia, noticing this, laughed again, her tone mocking and bellicose, bordering on belligerent. "What? Aren't you going to say something, _I-chi-go_?" She emphasized each syllable as though she was trying to murder him simply with the sound of her voice.

Ichigo thanked whatever god that had made that humanly impossible quickly, almost feeling each syllable bite into him like some sort of noose. But she would not have the last word. He glared and invaded her personal space, their lips dangerously close—though, at the hellish expressions on either of their faces, their minds were _far_ from that aspect of humanity. Seeing she wasn't going to budge, he said the only thing he could.

"I never asked to be brought here! I never asked to be saved by you! I would've been perfectly fine without anybody!" By the end of this, his chest was heaving, and his breathing was labored, bordering closer and closer to something akin to an asthma attack. Rukia made a noise of satisfaction; though she doubted the angry youth had such an illness, it would serve him right. The nerve of him! Who the hell did he think he was, being ungrateful for the Kuchikis' help—selfless help, may she remind you—and their kindness?! Why, if she'd known he would be this ungrateful, she would've left him on the streets to rot! What an asshole!

"No, you're right," she growled out, her blue eyes narrowed scornfully. "I should've just left you on the streets to die!" And, not caring to see how he reacted to that, she pivoted on her heel and stalked away, her fists clenched angrily at her sides as though she was restraining from hitting him.

And to think that she'd even liked him for a second! Never again!

XXX

Ichigo stared after the irate girl, his face no longer set in that almost permanent scowl; now he was frowning.

He wasn't surprised, of course. He'd known, deep down, that he was being extraordinarily unreasonable, what with all they had given him. In fact, if he was being perfectly honest, it wasn't the wallpaper that had even set him off. Sure, the thing was annoying and made it look like a little kid's bedroom, but he could get over it. Or rather, he would, as it seemed that he wouldn't be getting a new room anytime soon. No, he supposed, that wasn't what had set him off at all.

He was angry. So, so angry… angry because he wasn't strong enough to beat those punks off by himself, angry because he'd argued with his savior, angry that he'd had to lie to the doctor just so he could have a chance at a new life—angry. He was so angry and so tired of it all. But most of all, he was angry with himself. For a moment, just one measly moment, he'd felt as though he was back in _those_ times, with _her_…

He shook his head. What the hell was wrong with him? She was dead—dead, buried six feet under, **dead**—and here he was, having a jolly good time with people he barely knew. The thought sickened him and made him want to retch; truly, truly retch. He was disgusting. After all, wasn't this the reason he'd run away from Goat-Face and Karin and Yuzu? Isn't that the reason why he refused to get close to anybody, even people who were considered 'friends?' He didn't deserve happiness—no, he deserved to die the same day she had. If he hadn't been playing by the river…

He felt the familiar burn of tears sting his eyes and obstinately wiped them away. He couldn't cry. He wouldn't allow it. His tears would do nothing to bring her back, would do nothing to lessen the aching in the hearts that had known her… he didn't deserve to cry. He didn't deserve anything.

After all, what kind of child would just sit idly by while his mother died in the process?

XXX

The soft _pitter-patter_ of feet echoed throughout the empty corridor, the plush carpet doing well to soften the harsh footfalls of a certain blue-eyed girl. Then, slowly, she slowed her pace until she stopped completely, her fists clenched softly at her sides. What was wrong with her? Here she was, being so self-righteous to someone she'd practically forced into her household, and then she'd said she'd rather have had him die than save him at all. He was right; he hadn't asked for this.

He'd never asked for any of this.

"Dammit Rukia," she scolded herself softly, her fist against her forehead as if in some private mantra. "Just woman-up and go apologize to him already." Rukia closed her eyes in silent defeat. "It might be too late if you wait any longer."

"Who're ya talking to?"

Rukia's eyes popped open at a remarkable speed, her body subconsciously dropping into a well-known karate pose. She was tense; like a violin string that was wound too tight, she could feel the coils and contours of her body tense and tighten like a manic accordion. Seeing that it was only Renji, she dropped out from her stance, though it did nothing to lessen the pain in her body—the physical guilt she felt. It was almost like her body was saying, "Wow, way to be insensitive, you spoiled bitch. Why don't you go dance on his grave while you're at it?"

Gritting her teeth, she gave Renji the biggest smile she could muster—something that felt so fake and deluded on her face. "What do you want, Renji?"

"I, uh…" His brow furrowed suddenly, almost comically, as he bit his lower lip—a nervous habit, she realized, but nervous about what? "I was just going to my room."

She blinked her eyes in confusion. "But, Renji… you're room's that way." She pointed in the completely opposite direction he was going, causing an enormous blush to erupt on his face. Now Rukia's interest was definitely peaked.

He laughed nervously, his left hand finding solace in his bright red hair. "O-oh, you're right. I guess it is that way. Haha, silly me, getting lost in a place like this…" He dropped his hand and gave Rukia a shaky smile. "Thanks for helping me out, Rukia. I appreciate it."

_Well, that makes one of us_, she thought curiously, idly wondering where Renji would be going at a time like this. She knew and he knew that the excuse of losing his way was as solid as water, but why would he lie? The only rooms that way were her own, Byakuya's, and Ichigo's… nobody of any importance to a guy like Renji.

She sighed. It really wasn't any of her business, she supposed; if it had been anybody else, she would've been so suspicious that she would've followed him to whatever god awful place he was heading. No, she trusted Renji. Rather, Byakuya trusted Renji, but she trusted Byakuya, so she supposed it was okay to trust the redhead. Besides, she still had to apologize to Ichigo. She didn't have time to worry about what some off-kilter partner of her brother's was doing in the manor, suspicious or not. Smiling slightly at her foolishness, she began to walk back the way she'd came, her steps pungent and determined. It was time to apologize to Ichigo and then, hopefully, she could go to bed—

…_Crick_.

She stopped cold, her momentary peace shattered like someone had thrown glass against a wall. She felt her body tense, her uncovered toenails digging almost painfully into the carpet. Her breathing slowed and her eyes, once unfocused and jovial, had narrowed to barely there slits that scanned the surroundings like some sort of predator. A few moments passed, those moments possibly the longest in the youngest Kuchiki's life, before she slowly let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding. _What was that?_

Maybe she was hearing things. After all, Renji wouldn't do anything suspicious, right—?

_Creak._

She felt a little sick in her stomach. "R-Renji?"

There was no response, not like she expected any. But now she knew—she definitely hadn't been imagining it. And, suspiciously enough, it was coming from her brother's room…

CREAK!

She gave a small yelp of fear and turned around, her curiosity dead as though it'd been shot in the face. Without even bothering to listen, she abruptly turned on her heel and ran back down the hallway, her departure like a bat out of hell. Her chest heaved and heaved and heaved and her mouth got dry, too dry, as she ran away. What was going on?! Was Renji…? No, no, she couldn't think like that. After all, there was no way Renji—goofy, loveable Renji—would attack her brother (at least not in her home—er, not at all!). He wouldn't attack him. Couldn't. There was no way—

As if mocking her claims, a loud noise—one that sounded suspiciously like nails on a chalkboard—reached Rukia even though she had run a good fifty meters, the sound devious and unpleasant and helping her conjure up bloody images of Byakuya, dead, dying, dying alone…

CREAK! CREAK!

The loud noise snapped her mind out of its musings, a bloody Byakuya forgotten, at least for a moment. She cursed as she momentarily lost her balance against the plush, velvet carpet, but she righted herself before any real damage could occur, her footing almost as lousy as her attitude. Gritting her teeth, she rounded a corner and, losing her balance, hit a wall.

A wall that surprisingly felt like flesh. Like warm, heated flesh. Like a certain orange-haired delinquent she knew…

The wall cursed as Rukia's weight plowed into him like a linebacker, her limbs becoming one with his own. Glancing up, she felt a slight blush reach her neck—from attraction or embarrassment, she couldn't tell—but she quickly shoved it down and gave Ichigo her most sincere face. "I'm… I'm so terribly sorry!" For a moment, she thought she saw his eyebrow twitch in bemusement, but she knew they didn't have time for that. She stuttered out a shaky, "B-Byakuya… R-Renji… a-attacking…" She couldn't finish her thought and instead buried her head in the crook of Ichigo's neck, her breathing sending goose bumps along the heated flesh of a certain hazel-eyed individual. A part of him wanted to snap at her for being so forward (or, he cringed slightly, hold her until she calmed down) but he knew both of those options would be futile. Instead, he settled for, "Rukia, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."

"M-might… see one soon… Nii-sama…" Her eyes became impossibly large, the blue irises looking so much more childlike as fear settled in the depths. "I think…" She bit her lip, almost like a little kid tattling on themselves. "I think that Renji's attacking Nii-sama!"

Ichigo stared at her for a moment, his irises widened much like the small, raven-haired Kuchiki. However, he could only articulate the magnificent phrase of, "Huh?"

"Huh?! What do you mean 'huh'?! Nii-sama could be getting attacked! Nii-sama could be dying right now!" Tears swelled up in her eyes, making those two blue eyes appear as though they were two swirling watercolors. "We have to help him, Ichigo! My brother might die and if he does…" Her eyes grew impossibly large, but became so childlike at the same time, their expression young and innocent and so very afraid. "It'll be my fault!"

XXX

**Rewritten! Done and done! Please to remember to review!**


	5. Chapter 5

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN BLEACH! THANK YOU FOR READING THOUGH!**

XXX

**Chapter 4**

"Rukia, calm down."

The childlike fear was replaced with self-righteous indignation and she glared, ire clear on her face. "Calm down?! You want me to CALM DOWN—" However, before she could finish, Ichigo clamped a tanned hand on her mouth, instantly silencing the vociferous Kuchiki. That sure as hell was not calming down.

"Rukia, calm down. Take a deep breath." He felt ridiculous for saying it (and Rukia looked like she was going to castrate him alive) but after a strenuous moment between the two, Rukia slowly breathed in and out like a mantra. In. Out. In. Out. After a few moments, her chest—which had been convulsing as though she had been having a seizure—slowed to a shaky sigh before she calmed down entirely.

"T-thank you. But Nii-sama…"

Ichigo didn't even hesitate. "I'm sure Byakuya will be fine. He's a strong man." Ichigo didn't admit that he had no idea if this was true. "I'm sure he can look after himself."

"But Renji might be…" She bit her lower lip and furrowed her brow, the expression thoughtful but cute at the same time. Fresh tears threatened to fall, her black eyelashes covering her eyes like a Persian curtain. And even then, underneath all of her fear, of her uncertainty, there was that brilliant light that shined greater than a thousand suns. It promised—well, frankly, Ichigo didn't know what it promised—but it was… reassuring. The light reminded him when Rukia had fought off all those thugs and saved his life. The light that threatened to destroy anything that hurt what was dear to her, what threatened to destroy all of those who attacked her or her family.

Suddenly, a word came to mind. A word that fit her so well, that so totally agreed with her personality, that Ichigo couldn't help smiling.

_Strong._

But along with that, another question nagged at the back of his head. "Wait, Rukia—if you're so worried about Byakuya, why didn't you go in to check on him by yourself?" And, though he wasn't sure, he was positive he saw her flinch at the question as though she'd been physically hit. "Rukia?"

"I-it was… it was because…" She bit her lower lip, the sight angelic, before she gave an uncertain glance to Ichigo. And, if he was truly paying attention, he would've noticed the slight pearly blush on her cheeks. "…I was scared…"

"Huh?"

She mumbled, "…I was scared…"

"Rukia, I can't hear you. Can you speak up?"

She glared at him, her eyes like a raging storm on the ocean. "I said it's because I was scared!"

There was silence.

"You were… scared?"

Rukia turned away from his probing gaze and found something interesting on the wall. "Yes, I was! I don't know what Renji could be doing to Nii-sama! It was just so… so…"

CREAK. CREAK. CRIK!

Rukia's body tensed for all but a second before she turned back to Ichigo. "L-look, we don't have time to waste—my brother could be in danger! We have to go save him!" Seemingly satisfied, she grabbed Ichigo's wrist and hoisted him up, his almost six even frame towering over her five feet of fury. With renewed vigor, she returned down the hallway and ran, Ichigo trailing behind her.

However, unknown to the Kuchiki, Ichigo hadn't meant anything bad about her fear. In fact, if he was being totally honest, he would say that he hadn't realized that 'fear' was in Rukia's vocabulary. She just seemed so strong and cool and independent… Geez. Now he was flustered AGAIN, thankful not for the first time that the lighting was rather dim. After all, he wouldn't hear the end of it if she ever caught him blushing.

XXX

_Creak._

Stepping closer than Ichigo had ever been to the elder Kuchiki's room, he drew a slim finger against his lips in a quieting motion, which Rukia responded with a comical lock of her lips. Bending down until they were eye to eye, he said in the quietest whisper he could muster, "Rukia, do you have a baseball bat?"

Rukia's eyes widened in confusion, but she quickly nodded her head, her black hair flipping around in a flurry of silky strands. "Y-yes, I have one. But why…?"

Shaking his head, Ichigo whispered, "Can you go get it for me? If Renji actually is attacking your brother, it'll make it easier for me to take him out." Seeing her still dubious expression, he sighed in exasperation. "Just go get it. And hurry. I'll wait till you do."

She looked ready to protest, but after a loud bang resounded in the corridor, she paled and turned on her heel, running and running until Ichigo could no longer see her in the dimly lit corridor. Nodding slightly, he placed his ear against the door, trying to discern something—anything—that could clue him in onto what was going on inside the aristocrat's room. It wasn't easy; those doors were thicker than lead and more sturdy than an ocean liner at sea. Even straining his ears, he could only make out certain things; and, judging from the sounds, they didn't sound pleasant. Banging and harsh gratings reached his ears, much like someone when rearranging furniture, and low moans could distinctly be heard. Were they moans of pain? Anger? Was Byakuya being beaten within an inch of his life right barely three feet from Ichigo? He closed his eyes, an unwanted vision of a bloody Byakuya—gasping, screaming, begging for his life—flashing before his eyes, though he hardly left his post. No, if anything, the terrifying vision almost strengthened his resolve; regardless of his distaste for the man, he refused to let someone be degraded like that. It was his nature to protect the downtrodden, to be the 'number one guardian' to everything and everyone he met. Ever since _her_ death…

Shaking his head, he almost missed the frantic sight of Rukia as she ran towards the teen, her hand grasping a rusty metal bat that had definitely seen better days. Barely taking a breath, she thrust the bat into his hands, to which he nodded almost imperceptibly, his hands holding up three fingers to signal their arrival. With a quick count to three, he slowly opened the door, the low groans—moans?—becoming louder than they'd ever been. With a frantic, wild blindness that only happened when one was in the dark, Ichigo searched for the light switch and nearly swore in relief once he found it. With a quick flick of the wrist, the room was bathed in fluorescent light, the sight unnatural and calming all at once. Then, with a finality reserved for those heading off to war, Ichigo opened the door wide, preparing himself to see a bloody corpse or a mangled body or something just as equally gruesome when…

Eyes adjusting to the bright light, Ichigo nearly face-palmed. Because, no, in the bed was not Byakuya's mangled corpse, bloody and broken, or even Renji's rage-filled face, murdering the partner that was so precious to him. No, the sight that greeted him in the bed…

Was Byakuya.

And Renji.

Together, almost completely naked.

"NII-SAMA!"

XXX

"Rukia! Um… well, I can explain—" It was Byakuya, and he sounded almost apologetic, a refreshing change from his 'stick-up-his-ass' attitude. Ichigo hid a snicker behind his hand while Rukia took in the entire scene, her blue eyes wide and her face flushed scarlet. There was a look of horror and fascination on her face, warring with the other in dominance, as her innocent eyes took in the entire sight of Byakuya and Renji. Byakuya and Renji, naked, _together_, in a bed…

"Yeah, Rukia, it's not what it looks like! Byakuya… he stayed in the bath too long and he… well you see—he got cold! Yeah! And I had to help him warm up! You wouldn't want your brother to suffer hypothermia, would you?" By the end of this, Renji was flushing a stunning shade of red while Ichigo just shook his head. Honestly—did he really just say that? And here Ichigo thought he was the idiot…

Rukia, however, remained silent throughout the whole ordeal. Her head was down, and Ichigo could no longer see her eyes. What was she thinking? Or rather, what was she feeling? Would she—the thought made him slightly giddy—say she hated her brother? Say that she never wanted to speak to him again? At least it would loosen the stick that was permanently shoved up his ass.

"Nii-sama…" Rukia's tone was unreadable, her face still concealed by her midnight black hair. "Nii-sama, why didn't you tell me you were…?" She seemed to ponder for a moment, thinking of a good word that would describe the situation. "Why didn't you tell me you were dating Renji?"

Byakuya and Renji shared a look of silent communication, clearly debating on what to tell her, before Byakuya sighed and said, "Honestly, I wasn't sure how to break it to you. Hisana… well, she was my wife and your sister; to say I've been sleeping with my partner seems…"

Suddenly, Rukia stepped forward and grabbed her brother's hand, her eyes shining with… happiness? "Silly! Did you think I'd be mad?" Byakuya, in a sort of shock, slowly nodded his head while Renji very carefully began putting his boxers back on underneath the covers. "I'm not mad! Actually—well, I'm sort of glad. I didn't think you'd find somebody else after Nee-chan died. Man or not, if you really love Renji, then I'll support you the best I can."

Byakuya gave her a look, his eyes furrowed as he took in his sister. She was being far too understanding of this; after all, it wasn't every day you find out your brother is gay or—he shuddered slightly—walked in on him while he was with another. Clearing his throat, he voiced his confusion. "You're being very understanding about this. I was expecting to be yelled at because I kept this from you or even, God forbid, have you tell me you hate me. The fact that your being this understanding is—"

Byakuya paused while he thought of a proper word. Giving up, he glanced back to Rukia and saw her smirking. She looked just like Hisana when she was willing to 'compromise'. Except Byakuya knew it wasn't compromise; she would blackmail Byakuya into doing something he almost always regretted, for his own good or no. The gears were turning in her head just like Hisana's…

Rukia smiled cherubically. "Can't a girl be accepting of her brother's personal life?" When Byakuya frowned, she sighed and lowered her head, the fake ruse gone like a whisper on the wind. "Guess I'm not fooling you. Okay, here's the deal, _Nii-sama_." She smirked like a wily hyena about to catch its prey. "You don't say anything—and I mean _anything_—about Ichigo and him living here. He hasn't done anything to you, so you should stop baiting him." She gave Ichigo a quick glance, the expression curious and strangely bemused—almost apologetic. "And you allow Ichigo to change any part of his room that he sees fit. That's more or less it—"

"And if I refuse?" Byakuya interrupted, disregarding his sister's indignant pout like one would a fly. He was going to play this carefully. Maybe, just maybe, he could avoid still preserve his pride. There was no way he was going to lose to Rukia, Kuchiki or no. His pride wouldn't allow it.

Rukia smiled angelically, a deep glint settled deeply in those azure eyes. "Then," she paused dramatically for effect, "I tell our family about how I walked in on you and Renji going at it on my _**bed**_." She added the last word with such biting emphasis that it snapped Ichigo out his stupor and let a chuckle escape at how quickly this situation had escalated.

Byakuya was horrified. His loving and adoring sister… was blackmailing him? If his family heard about this, he wouldn't live it down. They probably wouldn't care that he was gay; but the fact that Rukia walked in on him? Again, maybe the others wouldn't care, but with his luck, Uncle Ukitake and Uncle Kenpachi would be on him faster than he could deny it. Shaking his head, he said, "You wouldn't dare."

Rukia gave him a challenging smirk. "Try me. I've read plenty of romance novels that I could… flesh it out, if you will, and make our family see reason. How hard could it be?" And Byakuya decided that he definitely did not want to put her theory to the test.

Renji, who had until this time been busy putting his clothes on, shifted his gaze from Rukia to Byakuya before he said, "Byakuya, why not just give him a chance? I think we've traumatized him enough already." As if making a point, Renji pointed over to Ichigo who was blushing profusely. "A little respect ain't gonna kill ya."

"But—" At Renji's firm glare, Byakuya heaved a sigh and said, "Fine," choosing to ignore the triumphant fist as Rukia celebrated her victory. "But on one condition." Rukia gave him a pouting look, which he also chose to ignore. "He is to respect me as well. I can't respect someone with such a disregard for authority like Kurosaki-san." Giving his cool glare to the teen, he said, "Do you agree, Kurosaki-san?"

Ichigo scoffed a little, though found that he could not meet his eyes. "I guess so." Byakuya smirked, satisfied with the answer. Then, as though they were enjoying coffee and not discussing Ichigo's and Byakuya's relationship in the nude, Rukia's brother turned away, dismissing them. Rukia bowed excitedly, before she grabbed Ichigo and hauled him out of the room.

Just before she shut the door, Rukia turned around as though she'd forgotten something. "Oh, and Nii-sama?" She smiled mischievously. "I never would have told the family that. That was all a lie. I mean, come on, who do you think I am?"

She closed the door just as a glass of water connected with the frame.

XXX

Once they got out of the room, Rukia gently grabbed Ichigo's hand and led him back to his own room; a good thing, considering Ichigo didn't know what was right and left in this place. Taking the bat that Ichigo hadn't realized he'd still been holding, she quietly placed it in a nearby closet, drained, but rightly so. After all, Ichigo knew as well as she did that finding out your brother—your hardworking, stick in the mud brother—was gay and sleeping with his partner, well, that could be just a little draining for almost anybody. Giving him a tired smile, she said, in between her yawns, "T-thanks again for helping me. And…" She looked away, playing with her hands nervously as though Ichigo would lash out at her. "I'm sorry."

Ichigo's brows arched. "Hmm? For what?"

Rukia looked all around, hoping to avoid his eyes, before she sighed and said, in a slight rush, "I'm sorry for saying all those rude things to you back in your room! I was out of line and I shouldn't have acted like that! I'm so sorry!"

A little taken aback by her suddenness, Ichigo found he could not meet her eyes. "Y-you don't have to apologize, Rukia. What I said was out of line, too… I mean, I guess if I'm going to be honest, I was just a little uncomfortable with all the special treatment I was getting. I'm… not really used to that kind of thing."

"What do you mean?" Rukia asked, an innocuous light creeping up into her blue irises. "I mean, we were only doing what any normal family would do." A strange light crept into Ichigo's eyes, and he resolutely looked away, an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck. Realization dawned on her. "Oh," she said quietly, the understanding almost palpable. "That's right. You said that your parents were…"

"Yeah," he admitted awkwardly, rubbing a tanned hand on the back of his head in embarrassment. Seeing Rukia's downtrodden expression, he quickly added, "But I mean, it's not like it's your fault! I just… I'm just not really used to stuff like this…" He put his face in his hands, embarrassed of what he was going to say next. "I'm sorry I'm causing you guys so much trouble…"

"It's okay."

At her soft tone, he glanced up, and nearly had his breath taken away. Somehow along the way, they had made it to a moonlit window, soft and calming in the pitch black night. Standing there, Rukia looked so beautiful. Her black hair seemed to curtain her face from all proclivities, messy but at the same time adorning her head like a crown would a princess. And those eyes—Ichigo realized that he could drown in those eyes forever—seemed so ethereal, so incredibly bright and holy in the dark night. He found himself slowly, slowly, slowly being pulled towards her, like a moon to a planet, all pretenses forgotten in the dead of the night. Rukia was feeling the incredible pull, too. She slowly, so terribly and agonizingly slowly, crept closer and closer, the need to meet those lips and take them becoming more overwhelming as the seconds ticked by. She just needed to get a little closer…

When their lips were mere inches, centimeters apart, a loud slam interrupted the mood. Both jumping back guiltily, they avoided each others' gazes as Renji walked up. "Yo, what's up?" he asked, his mood surprisingly jovial for what had just transpired moments before. He also had this cheesy grin on his face, like he'd just been let in on a juicy secret. "Don't you guys have to go to bed soon? I mean, it's getting pretty late…"

"Y-yes, of course!" Rukia sputtered, quickly averting her glance from Ichigo's slightly parted lips. "I was just helping Ichigo find his room!"

Renji's smile, if anything, seemed to get larger. "Is that so?" he teased, though he didn't push the matter any further. "Then please, don't stop for my sake. After all, I'm probably going to be really _**busy**_ tonight, you know…?" And though he didn't elaborate, Ichigo and Rukia knew almost exactly what he meant.

Both simultaneously paled, the imagery all too clear for even their innocent, naïve minds. A silent communication passed between the two and, with a lingering look on the euphoric red-head, they both turned tail and ran, the almost kiss forgotten at the mention of Renji's quite obvious "other" activities.

After a few minutes of running, the two teenagers had made it to Rukia's bedroom, both red-faced and panting as though they'd been running for hours. Taking one look at each other, both burst into laughter, the situation so impossible that it was hilarious, the awkward moment between them forgotten as though it'd never existed.

Controlling her laughter, Rukia gave Ichigo a warm smile. "Thanks for helping me out again, Ichigo. I… I'm happy. Thank you."

Ichigo blushed, placing a well-placed hand over his cheeks. "You're welcome," he replied, his eyes avoiding Rukia's own happy gaze. "That's just what friends' do, right…?"

A strange look came over Rukia's features, and Ichigo thought that maybe he'd crossed a line, that maybe Rukia didn't view him as her friend. They'd only known each other for what, six days? People could hardly create a friendship in such a short amount of time—

"Yes!" Rukia replied, a small smile gracing her lips, her happiness almost palpable. To Ichigo, she looked like a little child at Christmas, her eyes bright and festering with a sort of communal happiness. "That's exactly what friends do…" Just as suddenly as it came, the happiness was replaced by a deep-set confusion, her brow furrowed, and her eyes narrowed as she stared intently at the ginger. "…Right?"

"Huh?"

A deep blush painted her cheeks and she gave a shy glance away. "W-well, you know… just answer the question, Ichigo! Is this… what friends do? Or rather, what do friends do?" She was rambling, she knew, but she couldn't bring it in herself to care. She had to know. "How do you know if you're friends with somebody?"

"W-well…" _Damn it, Rukia!_ Ichigo wanted to scream. _Why'd you have to ask such a difficult question?_ But largely before that, pity tugged at his heart, the inevitable question gnawing at his insides like a parasite. With barely any thought, he said, "Rukia, you… have had friends before, right?" At the awkward silence that met his question, Ichigo sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Rukia?"

"N-no…," she stated quietly, her fists clenching up her nightgown in her frustration. "I've… never had a friend, so to speak… At least, not any that I've kept in touch with…"

Before she could continue, Ichigo, without a second thought, grabbed Rukia's hand and dragged her into her room, ignoring her half-hearted protests he received as a result. His finger flicked on a switch and the room was flooded with color, pastels lining the walls…

Wait…

"Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me," he muttered, though he knew better than to start another argument with the emotional raven. The room was normal enough; with a big twin-sized bed covered in royal blue sheets, a window overlooking the roses out in the garden, and two oak dressers strategically placed in opposing corners of the room, the room was ordinary—okay, maybe not ordinary for Japan, but Ichigo knew it could've been more outlandish. No, what had stopped him cold in the middle of the room wasn't the room itself, but…

"Ichigo?"

Tearing his eyes away from bright Chappy the Bunny wallpaper, Ichigo gave Rukia a fresh scowl, remembering almost immediately what he came here to do. "Listen, Rukia…" Though he would never admit it, he felt as though all the cute, polarized bunnies around the room were staring at him and daring him to mess up. He gulped, though Rukia hardly noticed. "Friends are… people you spend a lot of time with." He furrowed his brow, confusion settling in those warm brown eyes. "I mean, I guess not the people you spend a lot of time with, but… people you like spending time with. People who like spending time with you, people who will do anything to make you happy… Oh!" He smiled, completely missing the blush that covered Rukia's cheeks. "It's like romantic love, but without the physical attraction… or something." He rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment, a bright blush painting his cheeks. "D-do you know what I mean?"

Rukia didn't answer. Instead, she cocked her head to the side, much like a curious puppy, and appeared almost to be thinking it over. After a few moments of silence passed between the two, she smiled, though it was filled with uncertainty. "I think I do…" One look at Ichigo's dubious expression had her changing her tune. She lowered her head in defeat. "I don't understand at all."

Hearing that, Ichigo rolled his eyes, though not out of annoyance and definitely not out of anger. He was… perplexed, yeah, simply perplexed at how such a girl could not know what friends were. Really, even he had friends! Orihime, Chad… okay, so he didn't have a lot of friends, but that wasn't the issue here! If he—a self-righteous street punk who had no chance at a future—had friends, then why couldn't—or rather, didn't—Rukia? How could he make her understand?

Suddenly a thought came to him, so sudden and preposterous in its nature that he felt it was perfect for Rukia. With a smile so forced it looked painful and a deep scarlet blush painting his cheeks, he stepped back from Rukia and offered her his hand.

"Hey," he said, his voice impossibly loud, "what's your name?"

Rukia stared at his outstretched hand like it was the plague, her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed in confusion. "W-what do you mean? You already know my name—"

"Hey," he repeated again, this time with a little more bite, his smiling widening to impossible proportions. "I said, what's your name?"

Rukia still looked confused, but after a moment, hesitantly took his hand. "My name is Kuchiki Rukia. Y-yours?"

Ichigo smiled, this time completely natural. "It's Ichigo. Kurosaki Ichigo. Do you live around here? I haven't seen you around before."

"Ichigo, I don't really get why you're doing this—"

"Rukia—I can call you Rukia, right?" At Rukia's hesitant nod, he beamed. "I'm sorry I'm being so nosy. I just moved here not too long ago, so I'm having trouble finding my way around." He laughed. "I was hoping actually… oh, but never mind. You're probably busy and don't have time for me…"

"What were you hoping for?" Rukia realized that until this time they had still been shaking hands, though she hardly minded. If anything, her grip seemed to tighten even more possessively around his. "Don't say stuff and then drop it, idiot! It's bad manners!"

Instead of getting angry like Rukia was expecting, Ichigo simply laughed, and she felt that hated heat creep up her face in embarrassment. Damn it!

Ichigo, in between his chuckles, gave her a warm look—something that didn't cause butterflies in her stomach, most definitely not. "Bad manners, huh… Well, I guess you'll just have to teach me. See, I was hoping we could be friends. Since I'm going to be here for a while and all, I figured why not meet a few new people?"

Rukia realized that Ichigo wanted her to answer, but her mouth went dry and her words along with it. He… wanted to be her friend? With her? With someone… so inept at stuff like this? Like his hand was burning lava, she wretched her hand out, the feeling of missing those warm fingers almost making her grab it again.

_Isn't that why you saved him?_ her mind questioned. _Isn't that why you helped him?_ But as she stood there, staring at the bright smile on Ichigo's face, she couldn't bring herself to believe that. Okay, maybe at first… maybe, if she was being completely honest, she had been planning on using him to pass her boredom, to pass her lonely life back at her manor. She had been selfish… She could see that now, with Ichigo's bright smile and the ghostly remembrance of his comforting fingers against her own, the feeling of someone actively seeking her out and wanting her company. He…

…was the first person that had ever done this to her. He… was the first person who had cared for her outside of her family…

With a little smile gracing her face, she bowed deep and low, but not before she saw the startled look flash across Ichigo's face. Smile widening, she beamed up at the shocked ginger. "Yes. I… would very much like to be your friend." She felt a burning sensation in her eyes, which she resolutely wiped away. "Let's be friends, Ichigo."

After that, the rest of the night passed in a blur. Ichigo and Rukia stayed up to the wee hours of the morning, laughing, joking, talking—slowly becoming closer and closer as the hours ticked by. By morning, they were both asleep on Rukia's bed, hands almost touching in the early morning light, both faces released from all uncertainties and haggardness.

If anyone had walked in at the time, one would've thought they were two lovebirds idling the night away with each other's presence. Or at least, that's what Renji thought as he gently shut the door.

XXX

**Whew! Definitely longer than the others, but I wanted to include serious IchiRuki before next chapter. Hope you enjoyed it! I rewrote this ending scene a couple of times before deciding on this version. Please tell me what you think! I'm not quite sure how it turned out .**

**Sorry if there was any OOCness or any mistakes you might see. How do you guys like the rewrite? Good? Better? Worse? Let me know in a review! ;)**

**Now for some reviews~**

_**To Snowycness: Hey, long time no see! :D I'm glad you enjoyed this chapter, and I'm also very glad that you enjoy Kenshi Yonezu as much as I do. I suppose we could share him, like 90/10…**_

_**;) **_

_**Thanks for the compliment too BTW! I'm always really unsure about my writing, so when people say they like it, it really means a lot :) Also, do you have an account on FF? And if you do, is it the same name you use in your anonymous reviews?**_

_**To IchiRuki: Thank you! I'm glad you're enjoying the story and I hope you can't wait till next chapter!**_


	6. Chapter 6

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN BLEACH! I SIMPLY LIKE TO PUT ICHIGO IN AWKWARD SITUATIONS.**

XXX

**Chapter 5**

_Ichigo always loved the sun._

_He wasn't sure what it was about that bright, burning star, but it always seemed to calm him when everything in his life had turned to shit. He would just sit under the sun—never, ever in the shade— and would watch the clouds pass by in a plethora of shapes and sizes. _

_Maybe it was her that made him love the sun._

"_Ichigo," she said, her smile just as radiant as the beautiful, comforting sun. It came into focus as she stepped in front of him, arms out in front of her. "Ichigo, dear, what are you doing? Why don't you come to Momma so we can go home?"_

"_Mommy?" Ichigo—now nine years old—ran towards his mother, his arms outstretched to meet her hug. He wasn't sure why, but he felt so happy seeing her, as if he hadn't seen her in such a long time. A long time… It felt more like eternity._

"_Ichigo," she smiled again, but her eyes took on a worried light. The slight shift in demeanor caused Ichigo to stop dead in his tracks and look at her, confusion etched on his face._

"_Mommy?" he asked again, his voice so small, so high and young. "What's wrong? Did something happen?"_

_His mother's sorrowful look pierced him, and felt this insatiable need to comfort her, though he wasn't sure why. Before he could question this further, his mother replied, her voice sounding as though it was very far away, "Ichigo. Dear, you have to return home. Daddy's waiting for you, as are Yuzu and Karin. They're worried. Don't you know what kind of worry you're making them feel?" Stepping closer, she said in a much quieter tone, "Don't you know how worried __**I've **__been?"_

_Ichigo shut his eyes, his nine-year-old body returning to the seventeen-year-old it always had been. Not like he was any more aware of what was going on. He just couldn't deal with it anymore; shutting his eyes, he whispered a pathetic, "No," but his mother didn't seem to hear him. She still stood there, with that beautifully confused look on her face, but Ichigo couldn't take it. He wanted her gone, he wanted her gone. He didn't know why, but he wanted her gone. Why couldn't she just go away?_

_His mother took another tentative step towards him. He noticed this instantly and said, in the bravest voice he could muster, "No!" But she still paid him no heed and continued until she was right in front of him. In an act of pure instinct, he pushed his mother back, unable to look at her. He heard her voice—_**her **_voice, that sounded broken, like an old record, cry out, the sound much like shattered glass. Glancing up, the sight that greeted him shook him to his very core._

_Everything seemed to go in slow motion. _

_A loud splash echoed in the surrounding areas, the sun long gone and forgotten as powerful gusts of wind ripped through the small stream, Ichigo once again returning to his younger self. The feeling of something wet on his cheek, slick to the touch, seemed to snap him out of his trance, though he wished deep in his soul that it hadn't. Because, lying over there…_

"_Mother!" Ichigo called out, his body morphing to his true seventeen-year-old form once again. "Mother! Mom! Mommy! Come back—" He entered the raging waters without a second thought, his feet connecting with the shifting rocks underfoot, causing him to stumble. In vain, he tried to grab the edge of the river, but to no avail. It seemed the harder he tried to get away, the harsher the waves became. _

_With barely enough strength to hold him up, he slipped away under the dark raging waters. Struggling to keep his eyes open, he glanced around desperately for his mother—his beautiful, loving mother—and just as he was about to give up, he spotted fiery locks of hair floating haphazardly at the deepest part of the river. Propelling himself forward, he reached out for his mother, his hand coming close, so impossibly close to her own, before he used the last of his strength to grab her limp body. Using everything he had, he kicked up and broke the surface, gasping for much needed air as he tugged and tugged his mother to the shore. _

_Coughing, he laid beside her, his chest heaving and heaving and—oh, God, it hurt, it hurt, but the pain wasn't the worst. No, no, oh God, that wasn't even close; she wasn't breathing, his mother, not coughing or sputtering or making any indication that her heart was beating, that she was _alive_. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of his mind, he knew that he had to do something, he had to save her, he had to protect her, had to be her _number one guardian_. _

_But try as he might, he couldn't move, couldn't even breathe as she slowly danced closer and closer to death. Drawing in a shaky breath, he felt hot salty tears pour down his face, entering his mouth and choking him, the burning sensation too much, too impossibly much as he sent a longing look back at his mother. He had to save her—_

"…_chigo?"_

_Forgetting about the near horrific pain he was in, he raced to her side, staring down at her damp fiery locks, her pale skin that reflected like alabaster, as though slick and shiny to the touch. She was lying face down, a fact he had not been privy to when he'd heaved her ashore, her fingernails covered in dirt as though she'd been scratching at the earth in a painful attempt to get away. _

_Looking around guiltily as if someone would reprimand him, he bit his fist before he quickly turned her over, expecting to see her beautiful brown eyes glazed over or her holding onto the final desperate throes of life. He expected to see her bright orange mane, something so eerily similar to his own, gathered around her face in a mockery of a halo or something of the like— _

_Only that wasn't her face. It was some distorted mirror image, a face full of maggots and worms, her kind, warm eyes gone and replaced with empty black sockets. Her smile, the one that used to reflect the sun, was set in an impregnable frown, worms burrowing out of her gums and lips in vain attempts to get away. _

_She looked like hell. Or at least, like she'd been to hell and back. He shot back like he'd been electrocuted, his eyes no longer full of tears or self-loathing, but a fear so deep that it rattled his bones, shook his very soul. Only one thought crossed his mind. He had to get away. He had to get away._

_He had to get away!_

_Suddenly, a hand, surprisingly firm in its grip, grasped his wrist, preventing his escape like a serpent would its prey. With wide eyes, he looked back, hoping, praying really, that this was a lie, that it wasn't her, no way in hell—_

"_Ichigo?" She smiled, but it was hardly reassuring, what with all the maggots that came pouring through. "Ichigo, dear, what's wrong?" As she said this, those same maggots began writhing on his arm, their hurried movements tickling his skin. That, along with the terrific smile of his once mother and the smell of rotting meat hanging heavy in the air, pushed him over the edge. _

_Everything seemed to happen at once._

_With renewed vigor, he ripped his arm away, causing all of the maggots to flounder crazily in the air before landing with soft thumps on the soaking ground. His mother, that disturbing smile still on her face, furrowed her brows before Ichigo pulled free completely, her morbid cries of, "Ichigo! Ichigo!," being ignored by the latter. She sounded so heartbroken, so terribly lonely that for a moment, he was tricked into thinking that this was his mother, that everything was alright again, that she hadn't just drowned in the river—_

_He couldn't take it. His eyes widening, he screamed with all of his might._

"_NO!"_

The dream shattered.

XXX

"—chigo! Ichigo!"

Waking with a start, Ichigo was met with a pair of very blue worried eyes. He was shaking, he knew, his body covered with a thin sheen of sweat, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He wasted no time. Next thing he knew, his face was pressed tightly against Rukia's neck, his slight terror calming at the feeling of wonderfully warm skin. He heard a sharp intake of breath, and for a moment, he was afraid that she would push him away, would leave him on his own to suffer.

He couldn't bear the thought.

Slowly, slowly, two small hands made their way up to his neck, pulling him in and rubbing soothing circles up and down his spine. Had it been any other time, any other lifetime even, Ichigo would've sputtered indignantly and pushed her off, a dark blush most likely staining his cheeks. But all of that seemed very, very far away as the hands ran up and down his vertebrae, sending him into a sort of repose, where nothing could hurt him and no one could touch him. His frantic breaths slowed to steady breathing, and he was calm, remarkably so. When had he ever felt this secure before?

When had he ever felt safe? He realized suddenly that hadn't felt it at all since she'd died…

"Ichigo?" Rukia's voice was soft and low, like silky molasses, and it sent a pleasurable shudder down his spine. "Ichigo… are you alright?"

Instead of releasing her like she thought he would, he seemed to press into her tighter. "I-I'm fine," he stuttered, his voice cracking like he was about to cry. "Just… give me a moment."

Rukia nodded, her soft black hair tickling his cheek, her hands still rubbing those soothing circles against his spine. It felt so… warm, so wonderfully warm that Ichigo slowly felt his eyes grow heavier and heavier, the promise of sleep almost too much. He didn't want to leave. He didn't want go home. He didn't even want to leave her embrace…

But he knew he had to. With a sigh, he slowly peeled his arms away from her body, missing the fleeting look of disappointment that flashed across her face. But then, as quickly as it had appeared, it dissolved into the dim morning light.

Suddenly a realization came to him. "Rukia," he asked slowly, his voice low as though he was coddling a bear. "Rukia, what the hell are you doing here? Why are you in my room?"

"Huh?" Rukia looked at him strangely, almost like he'd lost his mind. "What do you mean? This is my room…"

"You mean that…" A half abashed, half mortified expression overcame his face, that bright blush quickly rivaling Rukia's own. "We SLEPT together? In the same room…?"

They both paled simultaneously, the thoughts of what that could entail all too clear in their impressionable minds. Suddenly, a loud knock broke the quiet morning, and the two jumped, startled out of their wits. Almost telepathically, they both imagined an enraged Byakuya, shotgun at the ready, Ichigo a mangled mess on the floor while Byakuya laughed manically. Mouth in a thin line, Ichigo shook his head and pointed to the window, his movements angry, and mouthed, 'We're going to die.'

'No we're not,' Rukia mouthed back, though she didn't believe that for a second. 'It could just be a maid or a relative or an axe murderer…'

The knocking stopped for a moment, and they were bathed in the quiet morning again. Brown and blue eyes met in confusion—or rather, in triumph—thinking that whoever was on the other side of the door had given up for the time being and this whole catastrophe would bypass like a breeze.

Of course, fate never quite works out like that.

As if mocking them, the door slammed open, revealing a smiling Renji holding two steaming cups of coffee. "Well, morning," he said, his smile nearly as bright as the sun. "Sleep well?"

The two teens both shared uneasy glances before Rukia turned back to Renji. "Uh, Renji…," she said, her eyes crinkling at the seams. "What are you doing here?" She prayed to God or whatever deity was listening that he didn't know what had happened last night…

"Hmm?" Renji lifted his eyebrows, causing some of his tattoos to disappear behind his shaggy hair. "Well, I was just coming to give you some coffee; after all, you both looked like you were enjoying yourselves _**so much**_ last night that I couldn't help it…"

Surprisingly, it was Ichigo who spoke first. "Like you're one to talk. If we'd come in just a little earlier—"

"AHAHAHAHAHAHA! Ichigo, you're sense of humor knows no bounds!" Renji's glare was not unlike Byakuya's own. Both Ichigo and Rukia shared a similar look before shaking their heads, as though it was too much energy to argue with the redhead.

Sighing Rukia leveled a barely interested glance at Renji. "Is there something that you need, or…?"

Like a flip had been switched, Renji's eyes widened impossibly before he rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. "Now that you mention it… Well, Golden Week's coming up, isn't it?" At Rukia's nod, he continued, a little unsteadily, "Well, somehow it fell upon your brother to… host a family reunion for Hisana's side of the family."

At that little tidbit, Rukia felt the strong urge to face palm. When Renji said 'host', they both knew that such a term paled in comparison to what actually probably happened. Rukia loved her family dearly, but sometimes—actually, scratch that, all the time—they had this strange sense of entitlement that knew no bounds. Shaking her head, she said, "When? This is the first I've heard of it."

"Ah, well…" Renji rubbed the back of his head, embarrassed. "Byakuya said they called early this morning, before any of us even woke up." He caught Ichigo's eyes, and turned away, unsure. "And, well… if what Byakuya says is anything to go by, they heard we had a new house guest and wanted to… meet him." But the way Renji spoke, it was almost like there were ulterior motives to such an innocent request. Sighing, he shook his head, exasperated. "I don't know what's going through their heads. I mean, here they are, rarely visiting after Hisana's death, and now they expect Byakuya to host some party like they're royalty?—"

"Renji."

It was the only warning he needed. His face flushed. "Sorry, Rukia. I… that was out of line." He bowed a little. "I'm sorry."

Ichigo gave him a curious look, but decided for once to keep his opinions to himself. Inside, though, his mind was reeling. What was that all about? It almost sounded like…

Rukia sighed and waved her hand up, like a princess commanding a knight to stand. "You don't have to apologize, Renji. It's… it's alright." She bit her lower lip, as if to prevent herself from saying anymore. "W-what day did you say they were coming?" _Smooth Rukia_, Ichigo thought. _Way to change the subject_.

He rubbed the back of his neck nervously. "Byakuya told me the twenty-fifth, so… one week from now?" He looked up to the ceiling, his mind calculating his math, before he nodded. "Yeah, a week. So long as they stick to their promise." He stopped suddenly and bit his lip, expecting Rukia to get upset again.

Instead, though, all she did was look away, out the window. "I'm gonna change now," she said suddenly, her eyes barely flickering to Renji's. Pointing to Ichigo, she said, "Take him and get out."

"Rukia, are you sure you're okay—"

The glare she gave could've frozen water. "I'm _fine_," she insisted, though her tone portrayed anything but. "JUST GET OUT OF MY ROOM BEFORE I YELL FOR NII-SAMA!"

Ichigo and Renji gave each other one look before, terrified, they ran out of her room, their footsteps making soft pitter-patters against the carpeted hallway. Smirking a little at how easy that was, Rukia went to her closet and grabbed the closest shirt—something, she realized immediately, was part of her uniform—and slipped it on, too tired to find something else.

_What's that?_ she thought suddenly, her hand brushing over a lump in the pocket. Confused, she reached in, expecting to find some old gum wrapper or an unused coupon, but instead she found something else.

The picture cascaded silently to the floor.

XXX

Ichigo glanced back at Rukia's room, the door closed, unwelcoming. He bit his lower lip, hazel eyes worried, before he shot Renji a half-annoyed look. "What was that all about anyways? She sounded kind of…" He looked back at her room before he leveled his gaze with Renji. "Sad… and hurt…"

Renji got a pained look in his eyes. "That's… not really any of my business. Just drop it Ichigo, okay?"

"But—"

"Ichigo." His voice brokered no arguments. "Please. I'm begging you—just drop it. Okay?"

The word held a tinge of desperation, fear, sadness, all coiled into one little phrase, causing Ichigo's heart to beat rather painfully in his chest. He wouldn't push him. He would just take it with a grain of salt, just like—

_No._

The vehemence surprised him; surprised Renji, who turned back with an incredulous look. "What?"

Realizing belatedly that he had said it out loud, Ichigo took a deep breath, as if to apologize. Instead, he felt his resolve strengthen slightly. "I said no. I get that this isn't my family, but—the hell, Renji?! Rukia could be crying her eyes out right now, and I don't even know why!" He grabbed his short orange locks in frustration. "This isn't the first time either." His voice was bordering suspiciously close to a whine, but he couldn't truly bring himself to care. "I mean, it's been nothing but secrets since I got here! Why Byakuya has such a large house, why Rukia's living with him and not her parents, and now, why she seems so sad when you mention her family—I'm so confused! I just… I just…" He was gasping, grasping for words, his eyes darting around crazily. Finally he said what'd been on his mind since he'd gotten here.

"I just feel like nobody wants me here because they won't tell me anything! Like, like some rotten street punk that's only here because of pity." Their eyes locked. "Renji, c'mon, you've gotta understand. I mean, you're not part of this family, and I'm sure they kept these things from you! You probably weren't treated any better than I am right now!—" Belatedly, he knew that he'd crossed a line, but he couldn't bring himself to care. "They don't care about either of us—!"

Being so busy with his rant, his feelings spilling from his mouth like some sort of word vomit, he barely registered the fist in his face until it was too late. Next thing he knew, he was lying on the floor, a groan of pain escaping from his lips, and felt a warm, coppery liquid fall inside his mouth. He was dazed, disoriented, and a part of him wondered if his nose was broken. Looking up at the seething redhead, the visage was enough to kill the angry retort on his lips.

"Don't you _ever_," Renji's eyes were livid, livid, like some sort of cobra prepared to strike the kill, "disrespect Byakuya and Rukia that way. They've given you everything, and here you are, whining about how they won't tell you some of their hellish secrets?" Either he hadn't noticed or didn't care about that slip, because he bulled his way through like a matador. "How dare you. After all they've done for you—"

"B-But Renji, you've gotta understand that what they're doing isn't fair!—"

"The hell it isn't!" Renji bit back. "If you want them to spill their secrets so much, then what about you?!"

"What about me?!"

His eyes narrowed to poisonous little slits. "You're telling me that you don't have one or two skeletons locked away in that bad boy façade of yours?" At Ichigo's silence, Renji crowed triumphantly. "How childish. No, no, it's not even that—it's worse than childish. It's pathetic." He sneered. "So next time you think about getting on your high horse, maybe you should stop and think a little about how you would feel if someone went and sprouted all your secrets!" As if was too much to even look at him, Renji turned away, disgusted. "If they want you to know, they'll tell you. Eventually. And unless you're ready to let loose and be an _honest _motherfucker, than I suggest you just keep your mouth shut."

And with his face a striking resemblance to his hair, Renji stormed down the corridor, leaving Ichigo alone and bleeding on the hallway floor.

XXX

_Ring, ring!_

Startled, Rukia dropped the picture she'd found. Her hands were shaking and her mouth was quavering, almost like she was afraid. Realizing that it was only the telephone and not anything more pressing, she heaved a sigh of relief and decided, once she'd realized no one else was going to answer it, to take the card of maid herself.

Hands still shaking, she grabbed the phone and placed the receiver against her ear. For a moment, she only heard what sounded like white noise, a flickering television screen. Perturbed, she gave a weak, "Hello?"

"Whom may I ask I am speaking to?"

Rukia's eyes widened and she placed a petite hand to her pert lips. That voice… the eloquence of a thousand noble women, the serene and sincere words being sprouted thus forth, the quiet command her voice seemed to use without so much as a whisper… There was only one person she knew who did that.

Unohana-sensei.

"Ah, um… It's me, Unohana-sensei. Kuchiki Rukia." She gave a nervous ruffle of her hair, the only physical sense of her racing brain. Why was Unohana-sensei calling? There shouldn't have been any reason for her to call… unless…

"Kuchiki-san?"

"Is Ichigo alright?!" She hadn't meant to sound desperate, but that's what it amounted to and there was no taking back her words. Swallowing, she added lowly, "I-I mean, is there something the matter, Unohana-sensei?"

"Well," Unohana paused, "I actually called to check up on Ichigo. How is he doing?"

Rukia nodded, slightly relieved that the request was so innocuous. "H-he's fine. It's been a little bumpy moving him into here, but… he's been doing as well as anybody would, I suppose."

For a moment, the phone was silent, though that same static noise whispered greedily in the background. After a long moment, Unohana gave a thoughtful little hum. "I see. That's good, considering the situation, and I'm glad he seems to be doing alright." Another pause. Then, in a much more somber tone than she'd used before, she said, "There… was actually another reason I was calling, Kuchiki-san. You see…" But her voice seemed to drop off, the volume muted, and Rukia strained her ears to hear. Did she…? No. But she sounded nervous, like she was guiltily expressing some secret about a dying family member.

After a moment, Rukia asked the dreaded question. "Is… is there something wrong with Ichigo?" A little more persistently, "Unohana-sensei?"

There was another brief pause before Unohana said, a little tiredly, "Kuchiki-san. What exactly has Kurosaki-kun told you about his family?"

"Eh?" Rukia wished she a phone cord to twist, she was that anxious. "He said that they passed away when he was younger, and he was living with that young couple. Uh…" She wracked her brain but couldn't remember the names. "Urahara Kisuke and… and…"

"Perchance, was it Shihoin Yoruichi?"

"Yeah!" Her voice sounded like a joyful little child, full of happiness that they got the question right. "Shihoin-san was his landlord and Urahara-san was her husband. She let him stay after his parents passed away, but he'd lived with someone else before that—"

"He did?" Now Unohana sounded intrigued. "Who was it?"

At this particular question, Rukia felt a little sliver of suspicion curl up her spine. She couldn't wrap her mind around why Unohana was so curious, especially about Ichigo. It wasn't like they were friends; they were hardly even acquaintances! Plus, not that Rukia would admit it, but Ichigo had told her about his family, his friends, his everything in private. It really wasn't any of her business to be giving Unohana such personal information.

Though, in some small part of her heart, she kind of wished it _was_ her business.

"Kuchiki-san—"

"I'm sorry Unohana-sensei." Her voice was tight, curt. Almost like she was afraid talking too much would allow the words to fall out. "But I… it isn't any of my place to tell you this. If Ichigo wanted you to know, I'm sure he would've told you. Why not try asking him yourself?"

Silence, silence. That's all there was. Just incomprehensible silence. "Kuchiki-san," her voice was low, almost like she was smiling, but it was stated with such an air of authority that Rukia gulped. "Kuchiki-san, I have some startling news that may change your opinion of him. Last night… well, we received a call on one of our hotlines. A man named Kurosaki Isshin had seen our alert sent out for Kurosaki-kun, and he'd stated that he was his father."

"W-wha…? That can't be right, Unohana-sensei. Ichigo's parents… died. When he was a kid. There's no way that guy can be his father." Here she laughed, though it sounded bitingly bitter, hollow. "Right?"

Unohana sighed. "I do not know, Kuchiki-san. What I do know is that someone is lying. The question is; is it this supposed Kurosaki Isshin or is it Kurosaki-kun?"

Rukia was silent for a moment, before she said, "Are you positive, Unohana-sensei? Do you think…" _Do you think Ichigo is the liar?_ Shaking her head, she said, "So what should I do? How can I tell if he's lying or not?"

Unohana sighed softly into the phone. "That, I don't know. The only thing we have to go on in this situation is someone's word. For now…" she paused for a moment, the sound of shuffling papers reaching Rukia's ears. "For now, we'll be getting in touch with Kurosaki Isshin and questioning him extensively. If he can prove he is Kurosaki-kun's biological parent… then there truly is nothing we can do but send him home." Unohana smiled. "At the very least, it'll be nice to have your house back, no?"

But Rukia didn't answer, hadn't even heard her. What the hell was going on?! Ichigo had told her that his parents had died, along with his two baby sisters. There was no way…

Right? Ichigo wouldn't have lied…

She breathed a shaky sigh into the phone. "T-thank you, Unohana-sensei. If I…" here she swallowed, "if I find out anything else, I'll let you know. Okay?"

She could just imagine a sweet nymph's smile on the physician's face. "Of course," she said brightly. "Well, if you'll excuse me Kuchiki-san, I have some work to finish up. It was a pleasure talking to you. If you'll excuse me…"

The line went dead.

Slightly shaking, Rukia placed the phone down on the counter and bit her lip. It was no use. Part of her wanted to believe Ichigo, wanted to know one hundred percent that he was who he said he was… but another part of her was cynical, negative even, saying that perhaps she didn't know him as well as she thought she did?

In any case, there was nothing she could do except go on his word. But if she found out he was lying… well, she'd be damned. There'd be hell to pay.

XXX

**Thanks again! And please review! :D**

_**To IchiRuki: Byakuya was OOC? I didn't realize—**_

_**Oh my goodness…**_

_**He is…**_

_**Ah, I'm so sorry! But it's so hard keeping them IC (especially the stoic ice king) so I come beside myself sometimes and make them a little more likeable.**_

_**(Probably unlikeable but it's whatever).**_

_**Ishida's here, though he hasn't made too much of an appearance yet. And as for Orihime… well, she has a very special role in this story. Or something.**_

_**(In reality she has no idea what is going on.)**_

_**Thank you for the review though! You're input is always appreciated!**_


	7. Chapter 7

"**What I've learned from seeing common complaints like, 'I don't get why the heroine fell for the hero,' and, 'there's no foreshadowing for this twist,' is that people are fastidious in their desire for a 'fair story.' Despite, 'I don't get why, but yeah, this happened,' being a common thing in reality, in stories it's considered unsightly.**

**For example, if there was a girl who never looked the protagonist in the eye to her last moments, and in her will it said, 'I always loved you,' I wouldn't want the author to walk me through a whole explanation there. Maybe forty percent of one, at most. I don't want the fun of filling in the remaining gaps to be taken away." **—**Fafoo—**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN BLEACH! I SIMPLY OWN THIS PLOT!**

XXX

**Chapter 7**

"Are you sure you have everything?"

Rolling her eyes, Rukia replied, "Of course, Nii-sama."

"Important contacts?"

"In my phone and a few other places."

"Money for food, gas?"

"There's plenty of food in the house, and I don't have a car."

"A shotgun?"

With a deep sigh, Rukia said, "Yes, Nii-sama. I even have a small picture of Hisana, a cross, a key to every house in the neighborhood, a rape whistle—"

Byakuya arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "I don't find that funny, Rukia. Especially with that boy in the house."

She sighed, rubbing her temples—as if that'd make her brother go away. "For the last time, Ichigo is fine. He's been here for the last two weeks and hasn't tried anything yet. Is that all, Nii-sama?" Her glare told him it better be.

Byakuya sighed—there were other things he wanted to ask about, but if Rukia was anything like Hisana, all these endless questions were probably giving her a headache. "Very well," he reluctantly agreed, his own slate colored eyes closing in agitation. "But if anything happens—"

"Call you. Yeah, yeah, I know. Now get going before you miss your flight!" Giving him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, she placed her thumb high in the air. "Go kick some ass, Nii-sama!"

Byakuya felt his eye twitch at her vulgarity—most likely picked up from that orange-haired street punk no less—but he decided that she was right—he really didn't have any time left. "Renji!" he called, his voice echoing eerily in the quiet house. "Come on, Renji! I'll leave without you if you don't hurry up."

For a moment, the house was eerily silent. Then, "Yeah, yeah, I hear ya. I'll meet you out in the car, Byakuya. Just give me a minute." Then, begrudgingly, "Please?"

Smirking, Byakuya gave a glance that, for once, Rukia didn't want to know what thoughts danced behind those intelligent eyes of her brother. But just as quickly as it came, it left, and Rukia was staring at the Byakuya she'd known her entire life—cold and detached, completely indifferent to everything Rukia had ever done in her life.

The thought stung.

"Uh, Nii-sama…"

"What is it?"

At Byakuya's tone, Rukia glanced up, her own blue eyes widening. He was standing there, a perfect black eyebrow soaring, his own smoldering eyes capturing hers in an intense stare down. No… She couldn't do this to him. Her worries…

She didn't have a place to burden him with her worries.

Giving him a small smile, she said softly, "Come back safely, okay?"

Byakuya opened his mouth as if to say something, but was cut off as a certain red-haired menace came waltzing down the steps.

"Oh man, that felt great! I hope I didn't make Byakuya wait long… Eh, huh? I-is that you, Byakuya…?"

The elder Kuchiki glanced up at Renji, his face blank—he was not amused. "Are you coming _today_, Renji? Or are you planning on standing up there like an idiot?"

Renji opened his mouth, then closed it, as if he was a fish out of water. "I, uh… well, I…"

Sighing, Byakuya placed his fingers to his temples. "Come on," he said, after a moment, "let's go before we miss our flight. After all," here he smirked, his eyes shining dangerously, "if we get to our hotel early, we might be able to _**enjoy**_ ourselves a little more…"

Rukia cringed, the thoughts of what _tha_t would entail all too clear in her mind. However, Renji's face lit up like a Christmas tree in December, a bright red blush rivaling even his hair, cheeks prominent. With a half-mortified, half-excited nod, he ran down the steps two at time, rushing past both Rukia and Byakuya in his mad pursuit to get away.

Rukia stared after him, her eyes narrowed into slits, her mouth in a bemused half-smile. So that was the person Byakuya had fallen in love with…?

…Right. Best not to dwell on that either.

Following her brother out, she glanced back, her eyes falling on a tiny picture placed precariously under some schoolbooks. _That_ picture.

Heat rushed to her face, and embarrassed, she looked down, her eyes clumsily watching her footsteps as they echoed on the mahogany floor. What was she thinking?! That part of her life was done, long and over with, and yet here she was, still owning a picture of her ex-boyfriend—

"Rukia."

Snapped out of her thoughts, she glanced up, eyes wide, her childish fear that Byakuya had heard her almost too great. She settled dumbly for, "Huh?"

Byakuya's eyes traveled over her, as if checking for injuries, before he sighed and met Rukia's curious gaze. "Rukia, there's something else I wanted to tell you before we take our leave." Renji, the ever curious bastard that he is, glanced out of the car, though much to his credit he didn't say anything.

"What is it, Nii-sama?"

For once in his life, Kuchiki Byakuya had the decency to look… abashed. Slightly mortified, slightly cold, but he looked almost… embarrassed, as if he had to explain to a young child where babies came from. "It has to do with our upcoming party next week."

Seeing Byakuya wasn't going to elaborate, Rukia said, "Well?"

"…"

"Nii-sama, I can't hear you. Can you repeat that?"

Byakuya glared. "I said that Kaien-kun will also be coming…"

The world froze.

Rukia stared at him, her eyes wide, impossibly so, her mouth opened in a surprised half-circle. T-that… That was just some cruel joke…

Right?

"Rukia?"

"Nii-sama…" Her voice was low, like a silent specter, her hair covering her eyes with an ominous foreboding. "Nii-sama, why would you invite him?—After all he did…"

"I'm well aware, Rukia." His voice was clipped, almost as if he was recovering from an illness. "However, the rest of the family practically begged me to let him come—"

"Why do they get any say in it?!" She hadn't meant to come out so excited, but there it was, plain as day. "They don't ever come around here, Nii-sama! Why should they decide who comes here and who doesn't?! They're a bunch of ungrateful bastards—"

"You will not talk about your family that way—"

"THEY DIDN'T EVEN COME TO HER FUNERAL, NIIS-SAMA!" Breathing heavily, it took Rukia all of a second to realize what she'd done, what rules she'd broken. She'd just… yelled at her brother… Nii-sama…

Byakuya-nii-sama…

Frowning, Byakuya gave her a glare that spoke volumes—not anger, hardly not, but a sort of disappointment, as if expected better from an enraged toddler. A toddler—that's what it more or less boiled down to. It was just… how was she supposed to be the bigger person when her family couldn't even do anything as simple as come to their own cousin's funeral? Hisana had helped them more than they'd ever deserved, and yet, she was the dead one now, wasn't she? She'd given everything to this family and yet…!

"Rukia, this is not up for discussion." Byakuya's eyes were like ice, biting into her shearers, his mouth uttering words that would inevitably lead to her slaughter. "Kaien-kun is coming whether you like it or not, end of discussion. I expect you can be civil for just a few hours."

Rukia lowered her eyes, pouting. "Yes, Nii-sama…"

"I can't hear you."

"I said, 'YES NII-SAMA!'" Sarcastically, she gave a two-fingered salute, though at Byakuya's disapproving glance, she gulped. "What I mean to say is, I'll try." Trying to smile, she felt it slide off her face like water. "I'm a Kuchiki, for God's sake! This is child's play for me."

Byakuya nodded. "Good," he whispered, almost too low for Rukia to hear. Then, louder, "Well, I guess I'll see you in a week's time, give or take a few days." Turning his back to Rukia, he went to go into his car, before he stopped himself. With a grin unbeknownst to Rukia, he said, "Also, I left a list of chores I expect Kurosaki-san to finish before we return. Try to keep him in line, understand?"

And Rukia, against her better judgment, chuckled. That didn't stop her heart from feeling like a gaping wound though.

XXX

Four files.

That's all that littered her table, her desk. Usually immaculate, free from any type of distress, this was unusual for the reserved doctor, even to her patients. She'd noticed the strange glances she'd gotten, the curious eyes staring at the desk as if at any second it would stand up and waltz right out of her office. However, nobody was stupid enough to question her motives. Regardless of their curiosity, both her staff **AND** patients would keep their noses to themselves.

Each file had a picture, a few pages of information, a couple of contacts, and some medical history. The first one was of a picture of a young girl, hardly older than twelve, her cropped hazel hair hitting just above her shoulders. No important remarks. In her picture, but in the next file as well, another young girl was glaring, her pitch-black hair framing her face, mouth set in a scowl. Psychosis—out on remission now. A man, tall and stout, his own beady black whiskers and receding hairline accentuated by a strong jaw, two eyes as though they were smoldering coal. Much like the doctor herself, the man wore a white trench coat, his hand holding a scalpel. The only remarks were that he owned a local clinic over in a nearby town, though it made just barely enough to keep up with all of life's necessities. And finally…

And finally, a young woman—well, not young by today's standards, but her picture was taken quite a few years ago, her own shockingly colored hair rivaling even the sun. Her eyes were kind, her mouth pressed into a small smile—on her hip rested a boy hardly older than five, his thumb in his mouth, his own hazel eyes and bright orange hair reminiscent of his mother's own. On her medical history, large black letters covered the page, making it nearly illegible.

**Deceased.**

"Unohana-sensei?"

Glancing up, one could instantly tell that this was a different Unohana from the kind and caring practitioner as seen by her patients, the woman of a thousand curses as seen by others. Two small lenses—glasses, corrective reading—graced her features, her white lab coat caressing her chair, a black turtleneck littering her spine. In her hands one of the files remained, its contents heavy, black Sharpie scrawled across the outside like some sort of satanic ritual.

As if burned, she threw the offending document away.

"Yes? Is there something you need, Isane?"

Isane, a tall and somewhat mild-mannered girl of twenty-five, flushed a little, her blue eyes dropping, following the file as it thudded against the desk. "I-I was just letting you know that I was leaving, Unohana-sensei." Here she paused, the grand debate of whether to ask about the file weighing heavily in her heart. "I, uh… Are you sure you don't need any help? I-I can… stay… if you need me…"

Unohana smiled benignly. "Thank you for the offer, Isane, but I think I can handle it from here." Staring at Isane's face, she noticed her gaze was glued on the document nearly three feet away, her eyes wide, like a doe. Clearing her throat, Unohana said, "Isane, it's very impolite to ignore your senior coworker when she's speaking to you." And though she smiled, the very air around her seemed to condense, to twist and morph, like a passage to some fantastic world.

At this, Isane jumped, apologizing profusely. "I-I'm sorry, Unohana-sensei! I just… I… you're looking into the Kurosaki case-file, right…?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"Well, I…" As if gathering all her courage—rather, the entire courage of the world, she said, "I just think you're overdoing it. Hanataro-san…" And here Unohana's ears perked up, the realization that Hanataro never talked about her clear as day. "He said that lately, you haven't been sleeping well. Is there…" Isane swallowed. "Is there something the matter?"

Unohana looked at her—really took in her appearance. Multiple questions plagued her mind. Who did this girl think she was, being so forward to ask and even rebuke her senior advisor when she was still only a nurse in training? What gave her the right to think she had enough power and authority to question Unohana's own?

But most importantly… Was Isane a girl that could be trusted?

Unohana decided that that was the case, much as she was loathe to admit it, the sparkling honesty in those two blue irises enough to change even a convict's way of life. Isane was, in a sense, one of Unohana's few actual friends, despite their age and rank difference. Or, at the very least, a coworker she would trust with many of her patients' lives.

"Okay." Her voice was low, impossibly so, her eyes darting nervously to the window, to the cutting darkness. But as she glanced out, movement caught her peripheral. With hardly any change to her expression, she turned to Isane.

"I'm fine, really." She smiled. "I'm just trying my hardest to help Kurosaki-kun return to his family." At Isane's shocked expression, Unohana smiled. "My oh my. I don't think I was supposed to tell you that much."

Isane's eyes were wide, like a child's. "S-so you're saying… that Kurosaki-san's parents… are alive…?"

With a half-abashed shrug, Unohana smiled, standing up to her not-so-imposing five two and a half. "I'm afraid I can't disclose that information to you, Isane-san." The formality was a warning; because besides that, Unohana's face gave away no inkling to what she was thinking.

Isane stared, the inner struggle of arguing with Unohana and just going on her merry way weighing all too heavily in her heart. Finally, she smiled. "V-very well, Unohana-sensei. I'll be taking my leave now."

Unohana smiled. "Thanks for the hard work."

"You too!"

And then, much like before, she was alone, completely and utterly alone in this office, her only companions those four files and the whirring of some forgotten fan. She watched, a smile playing at her lips as Isane entered the seething darkness, her gait lanky and uneven, like a newborn giraffe learning to walk. Finally, after a moment of shuffling for her car keys, she cursed triumphantly and entered the car, her taillights almost like a beacon to a sailor out at sea.

Then there was nothing.

"You can come out now," Unohana said, her voice still so very sweet, her mouth curved in a smile. "Or do you plan on hiding from me all night?"

There was no answer, but not like she expected any. Covertly, she glanced back, her eyes narrowed, face still set in that terrifying smile. She could feel a presence as it came closer and closer, watching her, waiting for the perfect time to strike. Like a lioness out in the savanna, the predator's eyes were gazing at Unohana, a sort of hungry bloodlust exuding from them, the only warning that the prey would die the feeling of those eyes. Turning around, she expected to see some seething visage of a spirit or perchance a wild animal's eyes trained on her back—

No one was there.

"Hello…?" Her voice echoed loudly, the only sound her quiet breathing. She'd felt someone, she knew. So why couldn't she feel them now? Had she been imagining it? Or was she just paranoid? What was going on—?

Darkness.

With a little curse, Unohana started, surprised at the sudden blackness. A power outage? Surely not, given it was a perfect summer night, the moon shining brightly with no clouds in sight. What would cause a power outage…?

And then, a squeak. The sound was loud in the quiet space, like a lion roaring in a library. Her eyes widened, and she whipped around, fully prepared to take on her attacker, her eyes finding difficulty adjusting the darkness. She couldn't see, she couldn't see…!

And then, quickly, with hardly any time to react, she felt a hard blow land on her cheek. Her glasses skittered across the floor, her mouth opened in an inaudible gasp. Her neck stung, but what had hit her felt like ice, cold fingers. What was it? It had to be an intruder, didn't it? But without her glasses, she couldn't see much of anything, even if the lights had been on. All she could feel was her neck, stinging painfully, her own breathing labored.

And suddenly, she caught a dark shadow out of her peripheral. Whipping around, she wasn't fast enough as a blade struck out, leaving a bloody trail against her cheek. That was close, she realized, too close. If it had just been a few inches closer…

The blade struck out again, and this time, she had just enough time to raise her arm in defense. It wedged deep inside, causing a pained gurgle to leave her mouth, though it was only a cursory wound, superficial at best.

Even so, it hurt like a bitch and she was just a second behind as another knife—how many did he have on him, exactly?!—dug into her stomach, causing her to slump to her knees in pain. Her chest was convulsing, though not from fear—pain, sure, but anger, the feeling of rage and wanting to rip her assailant apart growing stronger by the minute. She was prepared for another knife…

But instead, the assailant kicked the blade, causing a wail to erupt from her throat. She landed on her back, unable to stand up, her eyes flickering wildly in the inky room. Another blow connected with her side, another dug the knife deeper into her arm… She was going to die. She was… going to be killed…

And then, a pause came in the assaults. She looked around, trying to find her phantom assailant, but in such circumstances, the best she could was hold her baited breath. Black danced at her edges, the room spinning, spinning, spinning—

Don't you dare pass out, she growled out, teeth clenched. If you pass out—!

And then, she saw it. She saw him, for what else could he be, with such height and build? He towered over her, metal glinting in the moonlight, and she imagined his eyes were wild, crazy. That was the extent of her sight though. No discerning features, no distinguishing characteristics…

Just the fearful sight of a knife, ready to dig into her body, ending her life once and for all…

No! I can't—

But the blade dug in, effectively cutting off both her silent protests and her flickering consciousness. With one last, final glance, she caught the familiar sight of bright orange hair…

And then, nothing. The world was black.

XXX

**So hey guys… Officially, this is the absolute newest content for "To be Indifferent." If you read the original "To Be Indifferent" I would recommend reading the entire story (because I worked hard on the rewrite) or to start here if you want to continue reading from where you left off. **

**Also, a note; please take notice that I am changing the genres from "romance and friendship" to "romance and suspense." This chapter dabbles into that, and I promise all will make sense the more you read. The idea for the rest of this story hit me far from left field one day, and I must say, I'm excited for all the twists and turns to come. **

**So stay tuned, hold onto your reading glasses, and watch for the thrills to come! **

**THRILLS. **

**THEY'RE COMING.**

**WATCH THEM.**

**And let me know what you guys think about the suspense in a review! :D**


	8. Chapter 8

"**What're they selling?" *deep smoker's voice***

"…**Chocolates."**

**DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN BLEACH! ENJOY THIS PLOT THOUGH!**

XXX

**Chapter 7**

_He didn't know this city._

_Houses soared, windows glancing down precariously. The only sounds came from a bubbling creak that was somewhere close by, the chirping sound of water hitting rock after rock filling the air. Grass—mostly dead, though some of it managed a sickly puke-green color—was littered in patches everywhere, dusty dirt covering it like a shawl. Some birds—blue and brilliant in their foliage—tweeted about casually, their little beaks breaking some unsuspecting worm. Flowers littered the ground, their colors contrasting sharply with the grass' own, reds and blues and verdigrises—_

_The little boy sneezed._

_Dust fluttered in the air, and it was then he realized that fireflies were floating about, precarious, their beautiful colors of bright fluorescent green almost a testament to the night air. He stared at them, mesmerized, his hazel eyes widening to impossible proportions—_

"_Ichigo!"_

_Glancing back, his smile rivaled that of a thousand light-bulbs, his eyes closed in bliss. He ran towards her, the woman, the caller—his mother. She was bent over, arms outstretched, smile lighting that cherubic face of hers, bright red lipstick catching the fading remnants of night. In her arms, crinkled plastic rustled, eggs and milk and cheese and all the necessities he needed peeking out, like a newborn bird from its nest—_

"_Ichigo, dear, if you don't hurry up, I'm going to leave without you."_

_With an even bigger grin than before, Ichigo yelled, "Wait for me!" and proceeded to run towards her, dust kicking up everywhere. She smiled, her bright orange hair accentuating her face, her mouth, the very face of the woman he loved—_

_But then the scene changed, shifted. Now he was in a room, darkness settled in every corner, his own breathing ragged, impossibly loud in the dark space. There was hardly anything in this room except for the suffocating blackness and a window that overlooked a river. No stars shone, the moon a waxy proxy in the night. He shivered, afraid. Where was he? More importantly, where was his mother?_

"_Ichigo? Ichigo?"_

_Suddenly, he heard a woman's voice, the sound carrying, echoing, the winds of today and tomorrow and yesterday arousing even his most primal instincts. He wanted to cry out, he knew, but something deep inside of him told him to remain silent, to stay quiet even if it killed him. He didn't know why, didn't understand what was going on. _

_He just wanted his mom!_

"_Ichigo?" The voice carried through, and it was then he realized that it was coming from the window. Ajar, like it hadn't been before, he stared at it, his own eyes wide, his mouth opened in a silent, little gasp. Like a silent agreement had passed from his tongue to his toes, he stayed rooted to the spot, impossibly and irrevocably traumatized by whatever was happening outside. He wasn't sure why, though. This woman… she was his mother, wasn't she? Why couldn't he move…?_

"_Ichigo, where are you going?" The woman's voice raised in intensity, a shriek bordering on those perfect lips of hers. "Don't, don't—!" But the sounds died off as a splash reached his ears, the sound cannibalistically cutting into the deathly silence, his own ears ringing like a pan had hit against his temple. _

_It was like a curse had been broken, and with an intensity unknown to the little boy, he began to wail. His wails—could she hear them?—disintegrated the quiet and chilling night air, and he was suddenly very aware of how utterly alone he was. Where was he? What was he doing? He wanted to shout, "I'm here, I'm here!", but he couldn't find his voice, could only scream that terrible, terrible wail. Why couldn't she hear him? Why didn't she—_

_A loud gasp filled the air, plucking the scream away from his breath. Then, quietly, like a soft chime ringing on a windy day, he heard, "Ichigo… Leave my… son… alone…"_

_Somehow, he'd made it to the window, his feet moving against his will. He wanted to close his eyes, but he wasn't sure why. What was going on? That thought kept plaguing his mind, enticing his thoughts, destroying his will power to even stand up. _

_He fell to his knees, gasping._

_Except, this time, he wasn't greeted with the pure-white plaster indigenous to this room or the shining window connecting the outside world and his heart. No—now he was soaked to the bone, his shirt ruined, three steady drops of rain cascading down his cheeks. Rather, not rain, but tears, salty, briny tears that constricted his throat, his eyes, his everything. He couldn't breathe, couldn't feel the cool, shiny window as his hands—soft and smooth, the hands of a child—opened it, couldn't feel his own heart palpitating in his chest…_

_The scene changed._

_Now, instead of being in the room, he was _there_, the river's waters roaring in his ears, the slimy feeling of rainwater as it cascaded down his neck soaking him to the bone. A harsh scent enveloped his senses—almost the smell of metal and rotting flesh._

_Blood._

_He felt his Adam's apple quiver and he covered his mouth, fearful he was about to puke, his body shivering from the effort. Nothing came and deep down, he was grateful, though he didn't kid himself to think this was over. Glancing down, he saw deep, carmine stains, so completely unassuming in their nature, staining his hands, the color unnatural—deathly even. He realized, somewhere far back in the furthest pit of his mind, that this was blood, that this was _her_ blood— _

_It was then he realized the woman's eyes were watching him._

_Startled, almost like a gallivanting feline on the highway, he reared back, the rain pulsing harder. But the woman's eyes—dully lit, but still staring at him—were a beautiful hazel, bathed in matching eyelashes, lips the color of an ashy rose. She was beautiful._

_And that was exactly why she was so horrendous. _

_Ichigo, his hands shaking, uttered, "W-what's happening…?"_

_It was like a strike of lightening, her reaction; the terrified scream that ripped from her throat almost as loud as the ominous toll of a church bell. Her eyes were looking at him—yet, they weren't, not really— those irises shrouded, completely disconnected from the outside world. She continued to scream and scream—_

_And just as suddenly, it stopped._

_Cracking open a cautious eye he hadn't known he'd closed, Ichigo gasped. No longer was he there at the river, the woman's screams ripping into his body. No longer did he smell the blood, its metallic tang becoming the air, the scent heady. Rather, he was in a room—the same one from before?—except this time, there was nothing but a mirror, cracked and splintered along its crevices, a wooden frame encroaching the yellowed glass. He found his eyes and stood there, terrified._

But why?_ The more logical part of his brain asked. _Why are you so scared?

_In all actuality, he didn't know why his breathing was erratic, why his heart was racing, why he felt like a cornered rabbit, ready to be devoured by a wolf. He didn't know._

_And, he supposed, _that _was the scariest realization of all._

_He continued to stare at himself, unable to move, unable to feel like he wanted to move. He was pale, he noticed, the pallor as though he was an influenza victim, both startling and terrifying in its own right. His body was shaking, shaking as though possessed, like he was a puppet connected to some unforgiving string. His eyes, once such a righteous mahogany, were blood shot, the red veins like spindling spider webs in the country. _

_All in all, he looked like hell—or like he'd seen it, positively terrified. Against his will, a shaky hand touched the mirror, the glass smooth—smoother than he expected anyways—the dust clinging to his fingers like a second skin. He sneezed, and the dust flew everywhere, though it soon became lost in the inky darkness._

_Eyes._

_The hair rose on his neck and he subconsciously took a step back, his eyes wide. It had lasted for only a moment, but he'd felt as though someone was staring at him, sizing him up like he was some tasty morsel ready to be devoured. It was unsettling, sure, but more than anything, it finally explained the dread that had been enshrouding his mind._

"…_Hello? Can anyone hear me?" No answer, but somewhere deep down, he hadn't really expected one. But those eyes! They hadn't left, hadn't forgotten him in his tiny act of bravery—no, they'd grown in their intensity, staring at him, the feeling horrendous, disgusting even. Who was there? Or rather, _what_ was there?_

"_Hello…?" _

_The night dimmed, the blackness—still dark by any means, but less, almost like a gray charcoal as compared to the darkest depths of hell—dissipating, almost erased, evaporated. He wasn't sure why, but he felt a pull to the mirror, his gaze captured there._

_What he saw nearly ripped a scream from his dry throat._

_Two eyes stared back at him, except they weren't his own; no, these eyes were too dark, the hue a royal azure, black lashes framing alabaster skin, matching hair shining softly like a lamp. The gaze was intense and it seemed to strip Ichigo of every insecurity he'd ever harbored—only to replace them with horrifying revelations never meant to be unveiled to the human psyche. His face, once immaculate, was covered in blood, the unsteady dips and troughs like a portrait, splattered with paint. And his hands…_

_They too were covered in a deep crimson._

_That was the final straw. With one last, terrified utterance in the dark void, Ichigo felt the blood rush from his face._

Then he was gone, clad in a familiar bed.

XXX

It was a whir of activity.

Byakuya looked on with impassive eyes, while Renji stared, mouth agape. His eyes took in the tall structure, amazed that such a thing existed in Japan—no, in the world. Outside, it was the picture of perfection; with hedges clipped to the exact millimeter, some blood-red roses surrounded them, their stems and thorns constricting the emerald foliage like a stunning halo. Steps came up to the door, a red carpet—with nary a speck of dust on it—leading the way, coating the entrance. It was almost like one entering an actor's party, the red carpet out to greet every guest, its presence both distinguished and reassuring in its nature. The doorway, a solid panel of oak, was slightly ajar, voices sounding from within.

"Damn it! Riruka, close the door! The air conditioning's going out!"

And if the structure was marvelous, the insides were perhaps even more so. People of every age and gender lined the walls, each wearing a tailored suit complete with noir accents, two button-up cuffs on the arms, and a plain but adequate white collar, complete with the company logo. Men wore their hair short, trimmed, yet too long to be military; and women, unless under similar circumstances, wore their hair back in buns, each as crisp and professional as the last. Plus—not like the owner would admit it— all the girls were young; possibly college-bound or post college-bound students who could dress well and exercise as though their lives depended on it.

Their attitudes reflected that as well.

At the receptionist's desk, a young auburn-haired girl sat, her stunning azure eyes shining delicately like fragile china. Her outfit matched the rest of them, a smile cultivating her pretty face—and pretty she was. If Renji didn't already have Byakuya, well, who's to say what could happen, really? He wasn't exactly picky…

"Welcome!" Renji felt his mouth quirk, her smile contagious, but at Byakuya's cool gaze, he stopped, collecting himself. Now was not the time to be a fawning schoolgirl.

"May I help you?" The girl gestured to her left. "Maybe some water—a glass of wine?"

Byakuya nodded his head, his eyes boring into hers. "Two glasses of water would be fine, thank you." The girl nodded and stood up, smoothing out her skirt. She excused herself quickly and efficiently, her heels clicking like tiny little shots from a gun; and soon, she disappeared out of sight. Renji sighed, relieved.

"I'm not used to stuff like that," he admitted, though his boyfriend didn't seem to hear him. Laughing slightly, he asked, "What're we doing here, anyway? Are we picking up paperwork or something?"

This time, Byakuya's face shifted from impassive businessman to devious lover. "In a sense," he answered cryptically, his mouth quirked slightly upward. Seeing the woman approaching out of his peripheral, he sighed. "You'll find out in a minute."

That was strange, Renji decided. Byakuya usually wasn't the sort of person who'd avoid the question like that—he was always straightforward, cutting right to the point, his rule of 'no bullshit' even dominating his private life. That was how they'd met actually—Byakuya, in all his blunt candidness, had taken Renji out to dinner in hopes of… furthering their relationship, so to speak. He'd even confessed to him in the typical Byakuya way: "Date me." It had taken Renji by surprise, his bluntness, and he remembered vaguely how offended he'd gotten at first…

Renji stole a glance out of the corner of his eye, his tongue running over his lips subconsciously. Yes, he remembered that day—quite well actually; but now here he was, standing with Byakuya through thick and thin, their partnership only the tip of the iceberg.

Shaking his head, he turned back to the receptionist, eyeing the glasses of water quizzically, his mind whirring at a thousand thoughts a minute. The puzzle pieces were coming together. No longer did Renji feel like they were just picking up paperwork, or some other mundane task partners are known to do—no, it was something different, this place, the quirky callousness Byakuya had exerted over the last few days all the more quizzical.

_I don't even know what this place is called_, he realized with a start, though on the outside he was as happy and composed as he had been. The woman handed him a glass, but he didn't even notice it; his heart was hammering that loud. Just what were they doing—

"Renji?"

"Ah—yes?!" His hand, much like a marionette's string cut off, flew up, knocking the glass of water to the ground, the glass shattering everywhere. The woman—receptionist, college student, whatever—gave him a dirty look, the smile from only seconds before most likely a lie. Still, professionally, she got down on her knees and started cleaning up the mess, water seeping into her shoes. She visibly cringed, but kept her composure as all businesswomen should, and placed a delicate little handkerchief on the mess.

Renji felt his face flush with embarrassment. "Ah, I-I'm sorry! Please, let me help you—"

The woman paused, fingers twitching. Renji couldn't see her face. Finally, after a moment, she said, "It's _fine_." It didn't sound fine at all.

Byakuya touched his shoulder, causing Renji to jump, whirring anxiously to meet his partner. "Y-yes, Kuchiki-taichou?"

There was silence.

Realizing what he'd just said, Renji flushed an even more impressive shade of red, his hands trembling. Byakuya, much to Renji's utter horror and chagrin, looked positively amused—well, as amused as Byakuya could get, anyways. His lips were curled up in a little half smile, though that disappeared just as quickly as it'd appeared. Even so, his eyes held just a twinge of worry.

"Renji, what's—"

"There!" Renji glanced down, startled, as the woman sat back on her heels and rubbed her forehead. Her teeth were clenched. "All done! Now, what can I help you two _fine_ gentlemen with?"

Byakuya looked at Renji, mouth open as though he wanted to say something, before he shook his head and turned towards the woman. "I'm here today because I scheduled an appointment. I would like to speak with Kugo Ginjo, if that's not too much trouble."

"Oh—OH…" The woman's eyes were wide, the gears slowly clicking in her mind. "I-I'm terribly sorry, Kuchiki-sama, but Kugo-san is not in today. He's… out." She sounded strange when she said that, like the words left a bitter taste in her mouth. "But I can relay you to one of our other associates, if you'd like."

Byakuya nodded. "That would be fine, thank you. When could we see him?"

Covertly, the woman glanced down at her watch, her smile broadening. She was probably happy to get the troublesome redhead out of her hair. "Actually, right now." Finally, she decided to stand up, but not before she sent a radiant smile at Byakuya and a pointed glare at Renji. Pressing a small box located right above her desk, she said, "Riruka, if you'd be so kind…"

Something that sounded like unidentifiable buzzing filled the room.

The woman rolled her eyes, perfectly glossed lips open in an annoyed little 'O.' "I'm aware, Riruka. But you're the only one who can do this!..." She paused. "Don't be selfish. If you want to get paid, you'll march your ass—er, yourself right over here this instant!" Her voice had taken on a tone of a mother, disciplining her child; the tone of authority.

The static chatter from moments before ceased, and a loud click filled the area.

"One of our interns will be right with you," she laughed, her hands clasped blithely in front of her. "You can take a seat over there, if you'd like, and as always, we appreciate your support, Kuchiki-sama." Renji cocked an eyebrow—now that was _definitely_ strange. He'd always been aware of Byakuya's finances, hadn't he? If this was a philanthropist excursion, or maybe something relating to the Kuchiki family, he would know about it. Wouldn't he? Hadn't he and Byakuya gotten past this a long time ago—

"Are you Kuchiki-sama?"

Renji looked back at a young girl wearing what looked like a… maid's outfit?—her hair was a surprising shade of red, it's color only amplified by the silky white cap on her head. Her eyes were two swirling pools of magenta and her mouth was set in a tight little line. She regarded Renji deeply, boredom and a hint of impertinence clouding her eyes. Again, she asked, "Kuchiki-sama?"

"Huh?" Renji looked around for a minute, eyes wide, looking for Byakuya. But he was nowhere to be found. "I uh… I'm not exactly…"

"Huh?" The girl's response reminded him of a barking dog, her face scrunched up as though she smelled something awful. "You need to speak up. I can't hear you."

Renji's eyes narrowed, a few choice words lining his tongue in a most obscene fashion, before he sighed, disregarding them. He'd dealt with people like this before. "I _said_," and he paused, like the smartass that he is, "that I'm not Kuchiki-sama. I'm… his partner."

The girl was silent for a moment.

_Is it just me_, Renji thought, _or does she seem… embarrassed?_

"Riruka."

The voice snapped both of them out of their musings. "Y-yes?!" Riruka all but screeched, her cheeks an impressive crimson. "W-what's wrong?"

The woman from before was battling to keep a smile off her face. "You're blushing." It was stated with such certainty that Riruka began sputtering.

"I-I wasn't! I-I just… Oh, never mind! You!" Her finger was only inches from Renji's face. "You're coming with me, okay?! A-and that partner of yours—"

"That would be me, Dokugamine-san."

If it was possible for people to jump out of their skin, her body would've been a husk on the ground, Renji thought bemusedly. Somehow, somewhere, Byakuya had appeared, face set in that impervious way that Renji was familiar with—brow arched, eyes regarding the scene with a disquieted disinterest.

"T-the hell?! Where did you come from—,"

"Language, Dokugamine-san."

Riruka opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something else, but at last, she shut it obediently, cheeks red from embarrassment. With little mortified bow, she nodded at the receptionist before she gestured for the two men to follow, her eyes staring directly at the floor. She looked like some wolf, far from being the alpha in the pack, tail located snuggly between her legs.

"Uh, if you'd follow me... Kuchiki-sama, sir." Renji's eyebrows shot high in the air. So this girl had some manners, huh? To say Renji was surprised was an understatement.

After a few moments of navigating the halls, each person's eyes glued on the strange couple, they'd made it to a door, completely and obviously in a state of disuse. It was immaculately clean, strangely out of place in the pristine building, almost like it hadn't been used in some time. No visible marks or even specks of dust were to be found by wandering eyes—just a plaque, a rich coppery hue, that said, "Tristan Jackie."

Riruka knocked on the door, a scowl on her face. "Oi, Jackie! Open up! We have potentials!"

There was a bit of shuffling behind the door; then, slowly, the door cracked open, showing the tired eyes of a dark-skinned woman. "Riruka, how many times have I had to tell you that you have to be professional? You won't go anywhere in this company if you keep acting like an infant."

Riruka snorted, obviously not intimidated. "Boo hoo. Like I'd even want to go anywhere in this shitty company anyways!" But then, her eyes took on a worried light, face scrunched up. "B-besides, it's not like this is the best job I've had or anything…"

Jackie sighed. "What are you going on about?" Glancing at Byakuya and Renji, she said, "Please excuse her. Dokugamine-san was _just leaving_."

Riruka opened her mouth, almost as if to protest, before she imperceptibly nodded. "Y-yes." She bowed a little. "If you'll excuse me…"

And then she was gone, her presence—or lack thereof—leaving a very bitter hole in the awkwardness of the trio— more specifically, Renji. Because, loathe as he was to admit it, her rudeness had entertained him, allowing him to keep his mind off the issue at hand.

But now…

Now, it was back to the forefront of his brain, like an unwanted mosquito, prickling about for veins of blood. He couldn't ignore it. The question was nagging him.

_What is this place?_

Jackie's voice snapped him out of his little reverie. "I'm terribly sorry about her. She sometimes… well, it's not really my business to talk about it, but she's one of Kugo-san's adopted children. He wants them to learn the trade so he can pass it on and 'keep it in the family,' so to speak." She smiled, though it was bitter, a little foolhardy. "Thing is, neither she nor her brother want it. It's such a shame, really. Anyway," the subject was changed so quickly that Renji was sure he had whiplash, "how can I help you two fine gentlemen today? And please, come in, come in."

Byakuya nodded, grabbing Renji by the hand, his own smooth and silky fingers squeezing in a vice-grip. Renji stuttered, indignant; didn't Byakuya know they were out in _public_?! What if someone saw? What if Jackie did? After all, Japanese people weren't exactly known for their warm, fuzzy, accepting personalities.

But luckily, Jackie didn't seem to be paying attention. With a muttered, "You can take the leather seats," she began making tea while the two men sat down, her back towards them. He heard the splashing of water, plus a muttered curse, before two steaming cups of tea was placed directly in front of them.

"Thank you," Renji said quietly, his nerves getting the best of him. When he looked at her, she didn't look like any business associates he'd dealt with before. First and foremost, her skin was a deep caramel, bordering on black—definitely not Japanese. And her hair was a deep mahogany, reaching just barely to her chin, a chic bob in the ways of Western European style bringing out the black in her eyes.

"Now," Renji hadn't realized, but she was sitting directly across from them, her posture both relaxed and rigid. And Byakuya still hadn't let go of his damn hand! "What can I help you with today?"

Byakuya's fingers dug almost painfully into his own. "I was making an inquiry as to whether or not my… proposal would be acceptable."

Jackie hummed, her fingers brushing through a large manila folder. "Is this in regards to that child?"

"Yes." His voice was curt, though there was a hint of something else in it, something Renji had never heard. "Do you know how long it would take…?"

Jackie frowned and glanced up at Byakuya. "Kuchiki-san… your credentials are impressive, I'll give you that. I'm sure it isn't easy being the head of a multimillion company at such a young age." She smiled, though it didn't reach her eyes. "But… well, I'm sure you understand Japanese custom." She gestured to them. "Many believe that _this_ isn't natural."

Renji's head was spinning. What was she talking about? 'Japanese custom?' What the hell did that mean? Or, even more pressing, 'This isn't natural'? _What_ isn't natural? A young man owning a company at such an impressive age? Byakuya and Renji?

Byakuya and Renji…

_Oh my God, she knows_, Renji thought suddenly, panic clear in his eyes. She knew! She knew they were a couple, dating, and could probably infer what they were doing behind closed doors—

While Renji's inner monologue was going on, Byakuya said, "In Japan, yes. But I've heard of influential people in _our situation_ adopting children in America." Byakuya shook his head. "I understand it isn't common for two Japanese men to do it, but—,"

Byakuya's voice drowned out, two words ringing ostentatiously in Renji's ears. _Adopting children_. Adopting children. Adopting children, adopting children…. adopting children—

"WHAT?!" Somehow it all made sense. The strange company Renji had never heard of, the odd glances all the employees were sending his way, Byakuya's strange and almost clingy behavior… "You mean that we're… we're…"

Jackie glanced up, a small smile playing at the corner of her mouth. To Byakuya, she said, "I take it you haven't told him, then?"

He grunted. "I wanted it to be a surprise."

Renji fell back into his chair, completely shell-shocked. Byakuya… he wanted to adopt kids? H-he wanted… to have a son or a… a daughter…?

Renji groaned, putting his face in his hands. "Oh my God, oh my God…" and he continued saying this, almost rocking back and forth on the leather seat.

Byakuya gave him a slight frown, but shook his head, turning back towards Jackie. "Anyway… about our inquiry into adopting a child—"

"Wait wait wait! Byakuya… this isn't some cruel joke, is it? I-I mean… what the hell? You wanna adopt?" Dropping his voice to a whisper, Renji said, "Couldn't we have discussed this before coming here? A child… Byakuya, that's a lot of responsibility—"

"I'm well aware."

Renji glared at him. "Well, then, what makes you think we can take care of him? Her? It? I know you have money but… we're not even married, Byakuya! And, and…" His mind was grasping for straws as to why this was such a bad idea. Unfortunately, he found none. "Well, you know…!"

Byakuya opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and turned towards Jackie, his eyes so much like the entrepreneur who could send grown men into tears. "Tristan-san, could you excuse us for a second? I have to take with my… partner."

Jackie nodded, her eyes alive with mirth. "Please, take your time, Kuchiki-san." Winking at Renji, she said, "We wouldn't want him to have a heart attack now, would we?"

Byakuya nodded, grabbing Renji by his upper arm. "Thank you. It will only take a minute." And they were out, again in the cold dredges of the world, a respectable distance between the two. They were, after all, simply _business partners_.

"Renji…" Byakuya apparently hadn't got that memo and brushed a stray strand of hair from Renji's face. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier about this."

Renji blushed, not used to hearing such a gentle tone from the ingenious tycoon. "I-I'm sorry too. It's just so much to take in right now and I… and I…" He took a deep, shuddering breath, Byakuya's fingers playing on his temples. He leaned into that hand, staring heatedly into those obsidian eyes. "Byakuya… don't you think this is a little sudden? I mean, what do either of us know about raising a child?"

Byakuya paused his ministrations, his brow furrowed. "I'll acquiesce," he said at last, continuing rubbing Renji's scalp, "that frankly, I know very little about raising a child." Renji could tell he hated admitting it and he smiled softly. "But Renji…" His voice was a husky whisper, barely above a breath. "What if I told you I wanted to stay with you forever…?"

Thousands of thoughts ran through Renji's head at the moment. Despite that, he settled for, "H-huh? W-what do you mean, Byakuya—"

And then Byakuya kissed him, his lips soft, like wild honeysuckle in the countryside. There was no tongue, no urgency to the kiss—just a soft brush of lips, chaste and so very sweet. Renji sighed into the kiss, pulling Byakuya closer to him, to which he received a bemused chuckle.

"Renji…" The deep purr of his baritone sent tremors down Renji's spine. "As much as I enjoy doing this, it seems we've procured an audience."

At first, the words didn't register in Renji's mind. But then, slowly, he heard a shocked gasp, followed by the embarrassed stutter of the one and only Dokugamine Riruka.

"A-ah… I didn't see anything! I swear! I swear on my life!" She was apologizing repeatedly, her hands floundering in front of her, like a fish on the haul of a boat. "I-I just was, uh… coming to see if you needed any tea! Yeah! S-something like that!" Her face was bright red, even rivaling her hair. "I-it's not like I was curious about your relationship or anything…!"

Renji couldn't help it. He burst out laughing.

XXX

"I take it you brought him up to speed, then, Kuchiki-san?"

"Ah, yes." Byakuya gave an unreadable glance at Renji, face neutral. "Abarai-san here understands perfectly well, thank you." He turned back towards Jackie, professional businessman back like a breeze. "Now, about the stipulations…"

She sighed, her fingers clicking against the wooden desk, her lips drawn in a frown. "The stipulations… well, frankly, it's not a bad idea. The United States has made huge steps towards marriage equality lately, so I don't think it's impossible for you to adopt from there." She brushed her hair out of her face, her eyes staring intently at a mug on her desk. "It's still a risky proposition though, Kuchiki-san. It's very rare to hear of a couple adopting from the United States, even with the outstanding credentials you possess. Over here in the East, but especially in places like China, you tend to hear horrific stories about newborn babies thrown into trash cans and teenagers joining gangs and the like." Her eyes were sad as she said, "It's not exactly a kind world for unwanted babies."

"I understand entirely. But, if I'm—_we're_—able to give a child a good home in this cruel world, why should it matter if we're lovers or not?" Byakuya stared at her eyes, trying to find an answer. "Well?"

"…It's true that helping orphaned children find homes in the world is one of our biggest concerns, but…" She bit her lower lip, thinking. "Well, not to be rude, Kuchiki-san, but how do you plan to help your child as a parent? From what I understand, you're away on business a lot, aren't you?" Her eyes were hard, filled with an inner light Renji didn't know she possessed. "Frankly that isn't exactly a suitable environment for a child, regardless of your sexual preferences. I guess what I'm trying to say is…" She steeped her fingers, looked Byakuya square in the eye. "Why do you want to adopt, Kuchiki-san?"

Renji's ears perked up, his curiosity overweighing his anxiousness. Why _did _Byakuya want to adopt? He gave some half-assed answer out in the hall, but now that Renji thought about it, he'd almost completely circumnavigated the question.

_What's your answer, Byakuya?_

Said man paused, his brain whirring, the gears clicking into place. Grasping Renji's hand, he said, "Because… I want to make a family with this man." He held Renji's hand up, his face dead serious. "Isn't that reason enough to have a family?"

"I understand what you're saying, Kuchiki-san, but—"

"_I don't think you do_." Byakuya's voice was cold, his tone commanding. "You've repeatedly mentioned that our company is quite a success despite my young age. As such, it isn't impossible for me to work entirely out of Japan. And secondly, this isn't up for discussion. If you don't want to help us adopt because of our predicament, then fine. I'll simply find someone else who will."

Byakuya stood up, to which Renji followed clumsily. "We'll be taking our leave now—"

"W-wait, Kuchiki-san, please don't be hasty." Jackie sounded defeated, like a dog kicked by its drunken owner. "What if… what if I told you we could help you adopt?"

Byakuya stopped, his hand hovering inches from the door. "And how to plan to do that? You've made it very clear that we should pursue _other interests_." His voice held a tinge of disgust. "Well?"

Jackie cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable. "W-well… we could send in a good word to the agencies in America. They would undoubtedly allow you to adopt right away."

Byakuya's hand had retracted slightly from the door. "What's the catch?"

"Catch? I wouldn't exactly call it that…" She laughed slightly. "Basically, all you would have to do is go through a comprehensive screening process from our agency. It works like this." From seemingly out of nowhere, she brought out a diagram. "We'll send one of our reps on an undisclosed date to your house. Once there, the rep will be responsible for not only judging whether you two would make fine parents, but also if the house, work, and education opportunities are sufficiently high for the child. They would do extensive background checks on everyone in the family, including distant relatives and those who have passed away. After that, it'll be another two or three months before we can complete the analysis of our findings. If you receive a high score from the rep who visits your home, then we will send the request to America right away. Then it's simply a waiting game." She frowned a little. "I get that it doesn't sound hard, but please be aware that we take all interests into adoption very seriously. This will not be some easy test where you can get by being 'good enough.' You'll have to be the best in order to have even an inkling of a chance to adopt a child—you can't half-ass this."

Slowly, like the hour hand on a clock, Byakuya turned around, his face unreadable. Finally, he nodded. "Very well. Be prepared though; I won't lose this battle, Tristan-san."

Though Jackie's face was completely blank, Renji could see the bemusement dancing in her eyes. "I wouldn't think otherwise, Kuchiki-san. But please remember…" Her tone grew grave as she said this, like a ninja giving away national secrets to an enemy country. "If even one member of your family makes a mistake, your chances of adopting will reach nihility." She smiled. "Is that acceptable, Kuchiki-san?"

"Of course." Byakuya's look lingered on Renji's face for just a moment. "That would be perfect."

XXX

**Review!**


	9. Chapter 9

"**You can never read your own book with the innocent anticipation that comes with that first delicious page of a new book, because you wrote the thing. You've been backstage. You've seen how the rabbits were smuggled into the hat. Therefore ask a reading friend or two to look at it before you give it to anyone in the publishing business. This friend should not be someone with whom you have a romantic relationship, unless you want to break up."**

**So, really, it would be like—**

***Alyssa's inner mind theater***

**Therapist: "So tell me why you two divorced. In all these pictures you seem very happy."**

**Husband: "I honestly don't know! I thought we were happy too! This isn't about the . . . incident, is it?"**

**Wife: "You cheating on me? Oh, no, no. It's not—I forgave you for that a long time ago. But see . . ."**

***brings out manuscript***

***Husband pales***

**Wife: "You critiqued my novel a little BIT TOO HARSHLY. And that just won't do."**

***brings out machete***

***stabs Husband in the face***

**-End-**

**DISCLAIMER: TITE KUBO OWNS BLEACH!**

XXX

**Chapter 8**

The hushed whispering of women was discernible in the crowd.

"Is that _him_?"

"No way, he's too old . . . Isn't he?"

"I wouldn't know, Natsuki-chan. I've only seen him in passing on magazines."

"I know that already! Geez! It could still be him though!"

"I suppose . . ."

Conversations like this resounded throughout the busy dining room, each conversation continuing where the other left off. It was ridiculous, this interest. Truly and utterly ridiculous.

A man smirked at the ruckus, his freshly pressed Armani suit sticking out starkly in the tiny little diner. He was gingerly sipping a cup of coffee—black, the way he liked it—a half-eaten croissant lying on a cute little plate in front of him. This wasn't unusual, he supposed. He was a fairly well-known philanthropist, helping starving children in the crevices of the world, providing aid to disaster victims, and most importantly, opening his own adoption agency right here in Tokyo. He supposed he could've worn something a little less eye-catching, like that horrible brown pantsuit Riruka got him for his birthday one year, but then again, he enjoyed the attention far more than the need to be discreet.

Plus, it always helped when a certain someone was looking for him.

"Otou-san!" The exuberant voice of a young man overshadowed all others, a childish tint to a masculine tenor. "So this is where you've been hiding!"

The man laughed, taking another sip of his coffee. "Not hiding, Kaien-kun. Simply observing." He cocked an eyebrow at the young man, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "Please—sit, sit! You're making me nervous!"

The young man—or 'Kaien-kun' if heard correctly—laughed a little, sitting opposite the strangely dressed man, his own grey suit a testament to his wealth. "Thanks, thanks. So how've you been, Otou-san?" And as they exchanged pleasantries, the women began speaking again.

"Now who is _that_? His son?"

"He's actually . . . kind of cute . . ."

"Don't be an idiot! He's probably way too rich for you, Satsuki-chan!"

"Eh? Don't be so mean, Rena-san. I can get whatever man I put my mind too!"

"Sure, sure . . ."

The conversation lulled before one brave girl said, "Ne, ne, who's going to take their order?"

"I think Natsuki-chan should do it!"

"Shut up, Ami! I-if anyone should do it, it's Tanaka-san!"

"Why the hell should I do it?! I didn't even shave my legs last night—"

"Huh? You expecting to get a husband or something? Hate to break it to ya—"

"Guys, guys! Look! Inoue-san already went and got it!"

The petty bickering of the girls stopped and they glanced over at the table, where a busty ginger was smiling, her bangs held back by two baby-blue hair clips. Much like the other waitresses, she was wearing a traditional maid's uniform, fit with an obsidian headband and matching choker. Though none of the waitresses could hear their conversation, they noticed Inoue throw her head back and laugh—a second later, and she was as bright and brilliant as a sun-ripened tomato. The women looked on, their faces both a mixture of disgust and amazement.

"Just look at her! Can you believe that?"

"Well, I suppose someone has to like Inoue-san . . ."

"Guys . . . We really shouldn't pick on her . . ."

"Oh shut up Ami! We all know you're thinking the same thing!"

"Hey, don't pick on Ami, Natsuki-chan! You're being a bitch—"

"Yeah? Come at me, Tanaka-san. We'll see who's the bitch when I'm done with you—"

And these conversations continued on in tedium.

XXX

"Ah—Inoue-san, was it? You went to Karakura High?"

"Y-yes, Kugo-san. You also went there?" At the young man's nod, she blushed an impressive scarlet. "I-I see . . . What year were you?"

The man hummed in concentration, his green eyes regarding her curiously. "Let's see . . . well, when you were a first year, I would've been a third year." He grinned, his smile reminiscent of a Cheshire Cat. "But enough talk about that. I'll have a blueberry scone with a cup of Earl Grey—actually, make that Darjeeling." His eyes gleamed like one thousand radiant light bulbs. "Thanks again, Inoue-kouhai."

"N-no problem, Kugo . . . senpai." And with a little smile of her own, she was off, her footsteps barely making any noise on the tiled floor. Kaien watched her go, waving a little, before he turned back to his father, a small smile on his lips.

"How interesting," he mused, lips pursed in thought. "It must be one small world to run into a kouhai from my old school. Don't you think so, Otou-san?"

Ginjo glanced up at him and took another sip of his coffee. "Sure sure—small world. You would've flirted with her even if she hadn't gone to your school." His grin was big and cheesy as he said, "Not like I taught you any different."

Kaien smiled as well. "If Riruka was here right now, she'd beat you senseless, pervy old man. Besides, I'm not exactly . . . interested in her."

Ginjo looked up for a second, his brow raised, before he turned back to his croissant, lips pressed. "I thought I told you to forget about that Kuchiki girl. She's nothing if trouble, Kaien, and I think—no, I _know_ you can do better than _that_." He grimaced as if talking about the Kuchiki was too much. "And anyways, she's probably moved on by now. No way that little heiress'll be husbandless for long."

Just at the moment, Orihime returned, a small tray resting against her busty bosom. She handed Kaien his tea, then took off, face down, small blush adorning her cheeks. Kaien smiled cheekily at her before he turned back to his father. "On the contrary, old man. According to some of my better sources, she apparently doesn't have anyone like that." But then his brow creased, his lips pursed in thought. "Though there was this strange rumor that they were housing this delinquent . . ."

Ginjo sputtered a little on his coffee. "D-delinquent?!" At Kaien's nod, he gave a bemused little sigh. "Kaien . . . I'm sure you misheard. There's no way Byakuya—Kuchiki Byakuya, king of all with sticks up their asses—would ever take in someone from the goodness of his heart." He laughed a little. "Hell would freeze over before that ever happened." Reaching across the table, he rubbed Kaien's head, which got an indignant squawk from said man.

"Look I—could you cut that out, Otou-san?!—I know it seems far-fetched, but apparently his name's Kurosaki Ichigo and he—" Before he could finish, he heard a gasp from his right and the ostentatious shattering of glass. Peering from behind black fringe, he saw Inoue standing at his table, her expression mortified. Her face was an impressive shade of white, pallid and almost sickly looking.

Was she about to lose her lunch?

"K-Kugo-san . . ." She regarded him intensely as she said, "Did you just say Kurosaki Ichigo?"

XXX

Ichigo had no idea what he was doing.

His short orange tresses were pulled back into a bandana, a white apron covering his clothes. In his hands was a piece of paper, filled with writing on both the front _and _the back. His eyes scanned the page, almost like someone would jump out at any moment and say, "You've just been punked!"

Ichigo was still waiting for that to happen.

With an annoyed groan, he said, "Damn Byakuya! What the hell does he think I am, some sort of maid?" His mind pointed out that yes, Byakuya did view him as a maid, but he pushed that annoying voice aside, fingers clenching the paper ever-so-subtly. It included things like sweeping, mopping, vacuuming—fairly normal even by his standards. But then, on the back, it ventured into much stranger territory—with everything varying from, "Rotate all plants three times counterclockwise," to, "Vacuum the ceilings." Ceilings that were, inevitably, eight feet high.

Ichigo leaned back, sighing. "This is going to take forever," he muttered, glancing at the house that, at a glance, _didn't have a goddamn speck of dirt on it_. Look at it a second time or even a third and one might see microscopic cobwebs lining some of the higher corners of the house, a view brave specks of dirt that had blown in from outside. But that was it. The house was just as immaculate and tidy as the first time he'd seen it.

He had a sinking feeling that it would remain that way even until he died.

Grabbing the broom, he began sweeping, noting the almost nonexistent pile of dust gathering at his feet. Soon that was disposed of in the garbage shoot and he stood there, barely breaking a sweat. Cleaning, regardless the size of the manor, was child's play for someone like him—he was lean, a fighter, a survivor. This . . . was nothing.

As if to mock him, a cobweb hung lazily in a corner, its presence irking the volatile teen. But it was high up, too high for him to reach or even jump to get, and it infuriated him. He glanced around the kitchen for a second, noting the silky cherry wooden table almost directly underneath the cobweb. With a triumphant smile, he scaled the table gracefully, knees resting on the surface.

_Just a bit further . . ._ He reached the broom out, attempting to hit the offending corner, but to no avail. Even with the added height of the table, he was still a few inches too short to even come close to reaching it.

He glanced around discreetly, his eyes taking in the entrances—a door adjacent, to his left, another directly across from him—and he quickly, quietly, scrambled up onto the table, his feet touching the wood with a sense of dread, trepidation. What if Byakuya saw him? Well, Ichigo supposed, he could probably take him.

But what about Rukia?

"What do you think you're doing?"

The voice startled him, appearing completely out of nowhere, the broom falling helplessly from his hands. His balance was off and he tried, desperately, to right it before he joined the painful death trap known as the floor. But it was no use. His foot fell out from underneath him, and a second later, he was on the floor, a pile of papers covering his torso.

He heard Rukia sigh to the right of him and he could imagine her wolfish blue eyes glaring down at him in upmost amusement. Or indifference. Maybe annoyance?

Whatever it was, he didn't want to find out.

"O-ouch . . ." He grabbed his ankle, applying some pressure to the aching area. The pain morphed, winding up his leg, causing him to breathe out in annoyance. "Damn it . . ."

"Are you going to sit there all day, or are you planning to get up?" Glancing up, he was met with a calm Rukia—perhaps too calm—her eyes regarding him coolly, her lips pursed as though she expected no better from a toddler. "You still have more cleaning to do, after all."

He stumbled to his feet. "I-I know that—damn it!" He glanced down, noticing that his ankle was an impressive shade of purple, yellow verdigris staining the sides. He cursed lightly under his breath. "Fuck it all! Shit!"

Rukia didn't do so much as giggle, or even smile, but Ichigo could see the amusement in her eyes. "Oh? Did something happen?"

Ichigo wasn't sure if he should be insulted or upset with that look in her eyes. "No," he glanced away, muttering. "I'm fine."

"Bullshit."

"Hah?!" If it had been any other time, Ichigo would've been flabbergasted by the cuss escaping her mouth, the look of worry flashing briefly in her eyes. But he didn't have time, for she'd already fallen to her knees, eyeing his ankle strangely, like one might a foreign plant. A blush unwittingly covered his cheeks. "W-what are you—"

"Does it hurt?" Gingerly, she pressed a finger on it, noting the almost imperceptible shiver that ran through his body. She'd figured it was from the pain, but Ichigo knew better. "Ichigo?"

"Y-yeah . . ." He managed to get out, suddenly mortified at the situation they were in. "B-b-but like I said, it's fine. I've had worse before, anyway."

"Worse? Like what?"

"Well . . ." He counted in his head the amount of times he'd gotten hurt—there was that time he'd broken his leg playing soccer, after some gigantically large foreigner decided it'd be a good idea to trip and fall during a practice match. Then there was that time he'd broken his arm after fighting off his exuberant father, whose sole purpose in life seemed to be 'waking him up by attacking him through the window instead of using this god-given device called an alarm clock.' That'd been fun; his mother hadn't let Isshin forget about it, most notably in the way she'd miraculously found at least two weeks worth of dirty laundry, along with enough primer to paint the Empire State Building.

But then the worst time . . .

"Ichigo?"

"Ah—it's nothing. I-I mean, it's not important. I-I've . . . broken lots of bones before! Ha! Ha!" His laughter died in his throat as Rukia stared at him strangely. "W-what?"

She sighed—a deep, all-encompassing sigh that seemed to make her deflate, like a balloon. "Nothing," she said at least, though by her tone, it had to have been at least _something_. "You're just an idiot."

"_I-Idiot—!"_

She chuckled then, suddenly unable to control her mirth, a small hand covering her mouth. Shaking her head, she said, "Come on. Let's get you to Unohana-sensei."

The vivacious youth shuddered, his usually healthy tan muting to a pallid grey. "D-do we . . . really? I-I don't want to be any trouble . . ."

"You already are trouble, idiot. Besides, you're a man—Unohana-sensei isn't _that_ scary."

Unbidden, an image of fiery Gehenna rose up, the mutilated carcasses of sinners and damnations lining the steps to a powerful throne, made of pure bone and blood, a woman gracing the seat as though she was born there. And though she was smiling, in her hand she held a bloodied blade full of viscous fluid, scarlet red, while a head of brilliant, dazzling orange rested in her lap, mouth open in a final scream of forgiveness . . .

"Are you coming? Ichigo?"

"I-I'M SORRY! BUT I'M AFRAID THAT I CAN'T!" Turning around, he bounded away—as much as he could, anyways, what with his foot lame and all. He heard Rukia gasp somewhere behind him and go to chase—a loud crash followed afterwards.

"ICHIGO! GET BACK HERE! WE'RE GOING TO SEE UNOHANA-SENSEI WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!"

"I'M SORRY, BUT DID YOU SAY SOMETHING?"

"IDIOT!"

And it continued on like this throughout the rest of the afternoon.

XXX

"K-Kugo-san . . ."

Kaien smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Inoue, do you . . . know Kurosaki Ichigo-kun?"

The girl flushed scarlet, her hands tightening almost imperceptibly on her tray. Kaien's keen eyes noticed this, filing it away for later.

"I-I . . . do," she said after some difficulty, finding an increasing interest in the tiled floor. "Kurosaki-kun and I . . . were classmates."

"Classmates?" Now it was Ginjo who spoke up, interest peaked. "He went to Karakura?"

Orihime nodded, unable to form any coherent thoughts, unshed tears glistening in her eyes. Noticing this, Kaien said, "Inoue . . . what happened? Why do you look so sad?"

For a moment, she didn't answer, her body shaking. Then, suddenly, she said, "W-we . . . that is to say, my family and I . . . took in Kurosaki-kun after he . . . after his . . ."

"After his what?" There was a tinge of impatience in the older Kugo's voice. Kaien sent him a warning look, though that went unheeded by his father.

" . . ." She opened her mouth so speak, eyes haunted, before her jaw audibly clicked shut, a shadow falling over her eyes. She had shut down it seemed—but for what?

"Inoue?"

"C-could we . . . talk about this later? I-I . . . I'm sorry." And, bowing quickly, she quickly walked away, her gait bordering on a run. The maids that had gathered at the front podium all quickly moved aside as Orihime rushed out, her own matching uniform billowing in the breeze. Some nosy customers watched her go, obviously curious—but after she left, it was like she hadn't existed at all, and they all returned to their meals of sweet fruity drinks and girly-named foods.

It was Ginjo who broke the silence first. "What was that all about?" he whispered, glancing covertly out the door, tone conspiratorial. "Why would she act like that if they were just classmates?"

"Ah, you really don't have any sensibilities, do you, Otou-san?" Kaien sighed loudly, his fingers pinching his temples. "I mean, I thought the answer was obvious . . ."

Ginjo flushed, embarrassed, before he cleared his throat, not wanting to be the one outdone. "Then what was it? Please tell me, _oh_ _great one_."

Kaien smirked, bemused by his father's antics. "It's simple, really." Leaning closer, he said, voice barely above a whisper, "That girl is in love with Kurosaki Ichigo. You know what that means, don' you, Otou-san?"

Ginjo only stared blankly in response.

XXX

The clock read a glaring 7:02 P.M.

Ichigo was walking a little ways back, his gait uneven, slow, a petulant pout on his lips. Rukia walked a little ways ahead, a sigh escaping her lips every now and then, her small legs pumping as fast as she could go. In her hand was a leash, royal blue, though there wasn't a dog attached to it—the Kuchikis' didn't own any dog.

Stopping suddenly, she turned around and said, "I'll take this leash off you if you promise to go see Unohana with me."

Ichigo didn't stop, or even so much as grace her with a glance, but he did nod, face burning in shame. There was nothing more embarrassing than being leashed like a three-year-old, after all. "Fine." He'd lost this round. "I'll go see Unohana. We're almost there anyways."

Rukia smiled, pleased with his answer, before she unclipped the leash and dropped it in the street. Continuing on her way, she said, "I'm glad you're seeing it my way, Ichigo."

"Meanie."

Rukia cocked an eyebrow, slightly amused at his response. "Idiot."

"Bitch."

"Asshole."

"Cu—" Suddenly, Ichigo plowed into Rukia, his damaged foot hitting against her ankle. He breathed out a hiss. "Hey! What the hell was that for?!"

But Rukia acted as though she hadn't heard him, her eyes watching the scene in front of her like some sort of voyeur in a porn movie. Without any word to Ichigo, she darted off, her feet clacking on the pavement like tiny gunshots. _Click. Click. BOOM! Click. Click. BOOM!_

"Rukia—hey, wait up!" If Ichigo hadn't been so preoccupied with Rukia's strange behavior, he might've noticed the familiar street number, the large white building looming ahead, a giant sign starting with the word 'doctor' written in impeccable Kanji. He might've noticed the neighbors gathered outside, their dark grey suits and thin, pressed lips a dead giveaway to what had occurred there. He might've noticed the policemen, and how their eyes almost lit up when he limped past.

He might've noticed a lot.

"Rukia—Rukia!" His voice carried like a mockingbird's lilt, both strangely loud and harmonious in the bustling section of the city. "Rukia, damn it! Just where did you go?!"

Rounding a corner, a stray piece of fluttering police tape laid helplessly, the words of 'Do not enter' died noir against the bright commercial shade of yellow. His bad foot, like all accidents, caught the tape and a second later he was lying on the ground, face-down. A seedy pain shot through his leg, and in another moment, he was hissing out obscenities like his life depended on it. The pain subsided just as quickly as it'd came, and soon he was half sitting up, breathing heavily. Now that he was on the ground, he noticed all the little details that he'd missed before. The familiar building, the sporadically placed police officers, the nosy and curious neighbors . . .

And Rukia.

"R-Ruki—" But her name died on his tongue as he took in the scene in front of him. One ambulance was parked by the door, its back opened, revealing twisting test tubes and annoying beeping machines with lines going every which direction. A bed laid back there, undisturbed, the sheets white, too white to have ever been used—and the smell. There was a certain scent in the air, perhaps a mix of plastic and antiseptic, that caused him to gag and cover his nose, the scent too similar, like _before_ . . .

And there, standing just a little away from the back of the ambulance was Rukia. She was talking to someone he couldn't see, her hair dark brown, long . . . thick. He caught a glimpse of silky white skin framed by an almost matching hospital gown, and the peak of doe's eyes just slightly over Rukia's shoulder. Wait . . . Wasn't that . . .?

"Rukia?" He limped his way over in record time, ignoring the shouts of a police officer waving crazily in the distance. "Rukia—"

"—I'm so glad you're alright, Unohana-sensei." Rukia's strained alto reached Ichigo's ears, and he slowed his gait, listening. "I guess there's all sorts of crazy people in the city, huh . . ."

Now that he was closer, he could see Unohana clearly—and whistled lowly at what he saw. Her skin, usually so clear and beautifully kept, was painted with dark bruises of every color—red, blue, black, some purple mixed with verdigris. Her left eye was swollen shut, and her lower lip was jutting out at an odd angle, causing her to look like that Disney character—the Hunchback of Notre Dame. Pure white gauze covered her arms, and if he strained his eyes enough, he could see the remnants of freshly applied gauze peeking almost scrupulously from behind her collar . . .

"Thank you, Kuchiki-san." Unohana's voice was raspy, thick—molasses. She sounded like hell. "I was lucky that this was all it was."

"Do you know who did it?" Rukia's voice sounded small, and very far away. "The attack—"

_Attack_? Now Ichigo's interest was piqued, and he shuffled closer, listening. _That's what she said . . . But who would attack Unohana-sensei?_

He somehow managed to get to an obscure angle—close enough that he could see Unohana's face perfectly, yet too far to be properly noticed by the pair. As he watched, he saw Unohana frown and gesture to Rukia, calling her closer. Rukia looked a little surprised by the gesture, but she complied nonetheless, her ear a few precarious centimeters away from Unohana's mouth. He heard the fluttery sound of lowered voices confiding in one another . . .

And then a gasp. More specifically, Rukia's gasp.

He frowned, intending to get closer, when he felt a heavy hand grasp his shoulder. "Are you Kurosaki Ichigo?"

Glancing back, Ichigo frowned, wondering who on earth it could be. He was surprised to see a police officer. "Yeah? Is there something you need . . . officer?"

The man's face was grim, though there was a twisted light of satisfaction nestled deep in his gaze. _"Kurosaki Ichigo, you're under arrest for the attempted murder of Unohana Retsu."_

XXX

**Thanks for reading again! I know this chapter was a little slow, but it'll be picking up soon! I'm sorry for the late update too . . . I got a little discouraged writing this chapter, so I wasn't able to complete it in an orderly fashion :( **

**And, this might seem really far out in left field, but I've also had another reason for not writing . . . AKA Kuroko no Basuke. AND~ I've wanted to write a KnB fic, though I'm not sure what :'( SOOOO, dear reader people, if you have any suggestions (or prompts) let me know in the reviews below~ I'll see what I can do, and if I use your prompt, I'll be sure to contact you~!**

**See ya! And as always, review!**


End file.
